


Sarah Jane Rogers-Barnes: The Beginning

by JayBird1917



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (not within the Rogers-Barnes family), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aunt Natasha, Bucky Barnes Has Panic Attacks, Connor Diego Rogers-Barnes, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Dysfunctional Family, Family Fluff, Graphic Violence, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, No Porn, Original story and characters, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Past Domestic Violence, Past Sexual Abuse, Sarah Jane Rogers-Barnes, Stucky - Freeform, Trigger Warnings: (each chapter will also contain warnings specific to the contents of the chapter, Uncle Sam Wilson, but its ok cause they go to therapy, domestic stucky, everything is fine, family domesticity, feel free to skip chapters), its not all sad i swear, marriage issues, no porn because the kids are the main characters, rebellious teenagers, steve and bucky adopt two kids, they learn a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 39
Words: 26,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27844249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayBird1917/pseuds/JayBird1917
Summary: The life story of one Sarah Jane Rogers-Barnes. Born to Amy Jackson. Daughter of a new and rebellious generation. Sister, friend, child. And S.H.I.E.L.D.'s biggest threat since the ghost that was her father.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Comments: 25
Kudos: 14





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> 1 
> 
> Six months old 
> 
> “Little do you know I know you’re breaking while I fall asleep.” 
> 
> Chapter 1 Warnings: PTSD, implied violence

Bucky knew from the moment he held her that she was the one. 

He wished he could say the same for Steve, but their initial meeting was anything but romantic. Bucky had only been eight years old, but that didn’t stop him from shouting the  _ meanest _ curses he knew and chasing three fifth graders away from that little blond boy. He had sat down next to the kid on the curb and asked him why he hadn’t run. He told Bucky that one of the kids had called him cute and he wasn’t gonna leave till they paid for that. Bucky tried to reason that maybe they thought that cause he was small and kinda looked like a dame and  _ well- _

He went home with a black eye. 

But somehow, by some small miracle he kept that boy. Kept him through every fist fight, through every harsh winter, through the day his ma passed, every bitter cold battle, every step on that bloodied grass, every man lost. Until he wasn’t around anymore. He still has regrets about that. That he couldn’t convince him to turn that  _ god forsaken _ plane around. Come home. That he couldn’t be there for him when they pulled his  _ half-dead body _ from the ice and unceremoniously threw him into this new world. 

This new world that let him marry that  _ absolute numbskull.  _ Let him hold this baby, let her be _ his _ , and well, he thinks waiting all those years was worth it. 

She cries out once, not loudly or out of pain, but it’s enough to make Bucky come out of his thoughts. He looks down at the child as she curls further into his chest, her small silhouette barely visible in the darkened room. He sways gently, bare feet making soft imprints in the carpet, and looks back at his bed. A vacant space sits where normally there’d be a man, chest rising and falling slowly, or maybe with his eyes open, watching Bucky as he lulled their baby back to sleep. 

Bucky knows he hasn’t been abandoned, that Steve doesn’t have a choice when duty calls him into the farthest reaches of hell. He moves gently, with a grace beaten into him through years of training and places the child back in her crib. As he lowers himself back on the bed, the door creaks open, the opening throwing whiteish-blue light across the back wall of the bedroom. Heavy footsteps move across the floor and close the door quietly behind them. Moonlight catches the shield as it’s propped up against the wall.

“You awake?”

“Always.”

The helmet and the boots get lazily discarded somewhere where they’ll get tripped over in the morning. Steve collapses onto the bed, making the frame protest under the sudden weight. He shuffles closer, not bothering to move the blankets, and grips Bucky’s shoulders. 

“Don’t talk to me, don’t ask, I just need you.”

“Okay.”

Bucky wraps his arms around him, the material of his uniform rough and damp in places, it’s uncomfortable, and Bucky can’t tell if he’s touching blood or sweat but he doesn’t move, just lets Steve rest his head against his shoulder. He closes his eyes while Steve adjusts so they’re as close as humanly possible. His hands subconsciously knead at the fabric of Bucky’s hoodie. 

Bucky can’t stop himself from assuming the worst, that somebody’s dead, something happened and they’re not going to make it, but he can’t let himself panic, not now. He just runs his fingers through the soldier’s hair and down his back. He lays there till his breathing slows, keeping a close eye on his heart rate, the twitching of his eye, making sure to whisper soothingly when a nightmare almost wrenches him out of sleep. 

Bucky can’t tell how much time has passes, he just knows that he can still see the moon out the window when she begins to cry again. He moves away gently, moving Steve’s arms so they rest on the mattress. He walks over to the crib and scoops up the little girl, holding her close and humming softly. Turning so he can rest his back against the crib, he notices Steve sitting straight up in bed, his eyes open but glazed over. 

“Jane,” he whispers, voice soft and wavering. 

“Steve?” Bucky moves back over to the bed and sits down, adjusting Jane so he can put a hand on Steve’s leg. “Can you hear me?”

He nods a little, but draws his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and bowing his head. His body shakes and he lets out little gasps, letting Bucky know that he’s begun to cry. He keeps Jane nestled in his metal arm, her blanket separating her from the cold vibranium, and runs his flesh hand up and down Steve’s back. It doesn’t seem to help, as his sobbing just intensifies, and he begins gasping for air like a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

“You’re going to be alright. Just hang in there, al-”

Jane gurgles a little and reaches one of her arms out towards her father. Bucky smiles and moves her so she can grope at his arm, making discontented noises. Steve looks up, startled at first, but his expression softens when he sees her. His face is red and blotchy in the moonlight, and the tears don’t stop as he takes her in his arms, but he smiles. 

“You’re going to make it in this world, aren’t you, Jane?”


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 
> 
> Six months old 
> 
> “Hello world, how’ve you been? It’s good to see you my old friend.”

“You took the last spoon!” 

“There’s more in the dishwasher.” 

“The dishwasher’s not done yet!” 

“Will somebody please for the love of all things good pass the milk.” 

“Who's toast is this?” 

“Please, lord, tell me there’s still coffee left.” 

“Bucky, is this your toast?” 

“It’s always Bucky’s toast.” 

“Mr. Stark? We gotta go, I’m gonna be late.” 

“Just a second kid, I’ve gotta put the refrigerator door back on.” 

“I’m still sorry about that, Stark.” 

“Remember, the assault squadrons got a meeting at 1500.” 

“We know, Steve.” 

“They’re running you ragged, aren’t they?” 

Steve looks up from his bowl of cereal. Sam looks back expectantly. 

“No, well, I’m alright.” 

“There’s no way you’re recovered from yesterday, mentally or physically. I know you man, and that stuff takes its toll.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know, Sam.” 

“A couple more of these high power assault missions and you’re gonna lose it.” 

Steve laughs and shakes his head as he finishes off the last of his cereal and stands up. Bucky quickly intercepts him and trades the empty cereal bowl for Jane. 

“Hold her, will ya? I haven’t had a chance to eat.” 

Steve collapses back into his chair and rolls his eyes when Sam laughs at him. 

“I don’t know how you two do it.” 

“Yeah, me neither.” 

He sighs and lets himself watch the organized chaos around him. Bucky’s leaning against the counter, eating his toast, holding a casual conversation with Clint, who must be on at least his third cup of coffee. Tony finally stops fiddling with the fridge door and grabs his keys, Peter on his heels, backpack across his back. Wanda sits at the bar with a plate of scrambled eggs. Thor and Bruce are both sitting at the kitchen table when Natasha leans over to whisper a sly remark in Bruce’s ear then follows Tony and Peter out. 

“Where are they going?” 

“They’re doing press for that last mission.” 

“Why didn’t they call for me?” 

“Tony didn’t schedule you, he said you were busy. I guess he’s just looking out for you.” 

“He’s gotten good at covering things.” 

“It’s in the job description.” 

Steve nods, looking down at Jane, who gurgles happily and grabs at his shirt. Vision glides into the room and greets Wanda. 

“Are those two a thing?” Steve asks. 

“Don’t ask me. I didn’t know you and Barnes were a thing until you announced you were engaged.” 

“Maybe we’ll just wait for them to get married then.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Bucky sets his plate in the sink and jogs over to Steve, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I’m going to go run a few laps, alright?” 

“By a few, you mean 70.” 

“Probably.” he shrugs, “See you later.” 

Steve watches him go while Sam cleans up his breakfast. 

“You don’t think they’ll send us out tonight, do you Sam?” 

“They might. You never know.” 

“I should talk to Pepper about watching Jane then. If all four of us are gone.” 

“Four of us? Are Natasha and I part of your family now?” 

“Don’t make me regret that.” 

“Don’t worry, you won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks for being here.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 
> 
> Six months old 
> 
> “Head in the dust, feet in the fire. Labor on that midnight wire. Listening for that angel choir, you got nowhere to run.”

Steve Rogers drums his fingers on the steel tabletop, the dull sound echoing in the sterile meeting room. He’s alone, but not for long. Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff and Bucky Barnes, the only other members of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Level 8 Assault Team, enter the room. 

Each member of the team is highly trained and specialized. Each member fills a specific role to be performed with precision and deadly force. They are all willing to kill, maim or worse at a moment's notice. They’ve all been through hell and back, all seen too much. 

And they’re family. 

They all knew when they got the order to suit up for the meeting that they were being sent out immediately. They’re anxious, unsure of what they’re going to see next, but too weathered to care all that much. 

Natasha kicks her boots up on the table as Nick Fury enters. 

“Alright soldiers, you better be ready to give this all you’ve got cause this ain’t the time to start slacking.” 

“We don’t intend to, Fury.” Natasha drawls. 

“We sent out a small band of agents to investigate a 0-8-4 two days ago. When they arrived at the location of the radio waves, they reported that it resembled a Hydra base that we’re so fond of sacking. We lost connection with them, but not before they launched a distress signal. We’re assuming the worst and sending you in for a rescue op.” 

“You are not to bring down the base or make a scene. This needs to be clean. Nobody can be left alive. You cannot get sidetracked. Once you’re done, there’ll be a jet coming in with a cleanup team to sift through the mess Hydra always leaves behind. You are to leave with the rescued squadron and let the cleanup team do their job.” 

“Yes sir.” the team murmurs in unison. 

“There’s a jet waiting for you on the launch pad. Dismissed.” 

They stand and make their way out the door. The jet hums impatiently as they board, filing into the space silently. Steve starts the autopilot program and the jet lurches as it takes off. He rests the shield against the wall and sits on the floor. 

“Here we go again.”


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 
> 
> Six months old 
> 
> “Take a moment to assess the sin he’s paid for.” 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Graphic depiction of torture

Bucky picks up the automatic assault rifle and slips the magazine in as the jet’s door opens slowly and silently. The brisk wind from the surrounding forest is cold and piercing. He slips on the black leather mask, filtering out the cold, letting it protect him, letting himself disassociate from what he’s about to do. 

They take off in unison, moving at a sprint that’s eerily silent. Sam unfurls his wings and takes off. He’s to keep things quiet from the air. 

The three left on the ground simultaneously drop to the earth as they near the door. Bucky crouches behind a tree and brings the scope up to his eye. He takes out two guards in two clean shots, then they’re moving again. When they reach the door, Natasha hacks the electronic lock, and grips the handle, looking to the two men for confirmation. 

Steve hoists the shield up and nods. 

She swings the door opens and levels her gun in front of her, but the hall is empty. They keep moving, opening every door and shooting out every operative they come across. When they reach a fork in the hall, they split up, each picking a direction and moving forward. 

Bucky jogs through the hall, slowing when he nears a door. He pauses, pulling his rifle up towards his chest and letting out a deep breath before kicking the door open. 

The scene before him makes his heart stop beating. 

The man, who he can only assume is one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, is cuffed to a pipe that runs across the ceiling, so he hangs vertically. The pressure put on the cuffs causes them to cut into his wrists, so blood runs down his arms, pooling around his shoulders before it slips down across his bare chest. Bucky’s eyes trail down his body, taking in the all too familiar electricity burns, the chunks of flesh taken out of his side, the rope binding his legs together, the- 

“Sputnik.”


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 
> 
> Six months old 
> 
> “Pull my heart out of my chest so that you can see it too.” 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Torture, Graphic Violence, PTSD, Gore

_“Rogers? Come in Rogers.”_

“I’m here, Natasha.”

_“I found the agents. They’re saying one of them is missing. A guy named Ryan. You see him?”_

“No.”

_“Keep an eye out.”_

“Yes ma’am.”

Steve breaks the lock on the steel door with his shield and keeps moving. Most of these rooms are empty, the tech’s way out of date, and it’s hard to find a reason why it was so heavily guarded. He searches the countless rooms for close to two hours, refusing to ignore anything that could lead him to the missing soldier.

This room, however, is newer than the others, with undamaged technology, lights that work, and what look like fresh files scattered on a nearby desk. Steve moves over to take a look, ignoring Fury’s orders.

“He doesn’t have to know.” he murmurs.

Steve opens the first file and what he’s met with makes his blood run cold. He raises a hand to the com in his ear.

“Come in, anybody, come in.”

_“Sam here, what’s up?”_

_“Nat. What is it?”_

“I found something.”

_“You’re not supposed to be investigating anything.”_

“Just hear me out-”

_“Has anyone heard from Bucky recently?”_

Steve curses loudly and picks up the file.

“We have to get out of here as soon as possible.”

_“What’s going on?”_

“Find Bucky. Find Ryan. We have to leave.”

Steve exits out the other side of the room and finds himself back at the fork where they had split up originally. He takes a moment to orient himself and takes off in the direction Bucky had gone. As he nears a door, he pauses. He can hear strained screaming from the other side.

Steve kicks the door open and stops, a horrified scream caught in his throat.

A broken, bloodied man sits slumped against the nearest wall, his eyelids open, the eyes themselves rolled backwards up into his head. Another man, who he immediately recognizes as Bucky is strung up, cuffed to the pipe that runs across the ceiling, his legs dangling limply from his body. His head hangs between his shoulders, hair damp with blood and sweat. There are panels torn out of his left arm, the exposed wiring sparking dangerously. His uniform is torn and soaked along his other arm; the deep red stains concentrated around his forearm. His bulletproof vest has been removed and discarded at his feet.

A blood red star is carved through the tough fabric directly onto his chest.

Steve instinctually attacks the figure that rounds Bucky’s body, throwing his shield straight at the man’s head, knocking him out cold in one move. Steve drags over the nearby table, knocking off miscellaneous tools as he stands on top of it and begins working at Bucky’s cuffs. He eventually grows frustrated and wrenches them apart with his bare hands.

“Natasha? Sam?”

 _“We’ve got your signal._ ”

“I found them. Meet me outside. Call for medical. We have to leave now.”

He gently hoists Bucky up, and he twitches, murmuring in protest. Nothing he’s saying is intelligible. Steve pulls him into his arms, picking him up bridal-style and stepping off the table. He rests Bucky on the ground and goes to assist the other man- Ryan. He’s out cold. Steve hoists him over his shoulder and turns to find Bucky standing, leaning against the table.

“Buck-”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t you dare pull this sh-”

“Steve.” he whines in protest.

“No.”

Steve makes him drape an arm across his shoulders and helps him limp out of the horrific blood-stained room. They finally make it outside, and Steve marvels at the three new jets surrounding the base. He passes Ryan off to a nearby medic and moves forward through the crowd of people there to clean up the mess. Bucky clings to him, wincing every time a person comes too close.

They come to a clearer, grassy space and Steve lays Bucky down. He winces as his back meets the ground, however gently Steve tries to lower him. He watches him close his eyes and let out a painful breath. A man in one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medic’s uniforms approaches him. Steve gives him a nod and he kneels to look at Bucky. When the man places a gently hand against Bucky’s shoulder, his eyes fly open.

“DON’T TOUCH ME.” he shrieks, making a feeble attempt to get away. His metal arm whirrs loudly in protest, plates recalibrating and screeching against each other.

Steve drops to his knees.

“I’m right here, you’re okay, you’re safe, Buck.”

His head turns and his eyes widen in recognition for just a moment before he lets out a quiet, heart-wrenching sob. Steve looks up at the medic.

“It’s okay, we’ll just take him with us. He’ll be okay.”

The man gives him a hesitant nod and walks off as Steve picks Bucky back up and Natasha comes sprinting over.

“Is he okay??”

“He’s not dead. Help me get him back to the jet.”

Natasha meets Bucky’s other side and the two of them trudge back to the jet. Sam lands next to them as the door opens slowly. They board quickly and quietly, taking off as soon as the doors close.

“We were supposed to take that team back with us.” Sam murmurs.

“I don’t really care right now.” Steve snaps as he lowers Bucky onto the metal plating.

“There’s other jets that can take them back.”

Natasha rifles through a few compartments before returning to Steve with a first-aid kit. He gingerly tries to pull away as much of the tattered cloth as he can. Nat pulls a knife off of her belt and starts cutting it off of him, while Steve starts to press an alcohol wipe to the carvings.

“What happened in there, Buck?”

His eyes open sleepily.

“I don’t- I don’t really know. I know that man- Steve I knew who he was-”

“Who?”

“The man, the man you attacked, the one who strung me up.”

Steve visibly pales.

“What is it?” Sam asks.

“I don’t think I got him. I just knocked him out. He’s not dead. He could be anywhere.”

“The cleanup team will probably find him.”

“We can only hope.”

Natasha curses quietly as she pulls at the fabric around his right arm.

“What is this?”

Steve’s eyes trace up his arm, the tattered fabric and flesh, and pauses when he sees a dull glint of metal.

“What-?”

As he leans closer, he’s able to see the barbed wire, where it wraps around his arm, then disappears into his flesh, only to appear on the other side and make another loop around. His entire right forearm is wrapped tightly in barbed wire coils, that spiral around and through his flesh. It pins the fabric to his arm, soaking it in blood.

“This is sick.”

“Kaiser.” Bucky murmurs. “He was the doctor in charge of overseeing me from 1976-2004. He was young when he started, but his experiments only got more twisted as his time dragged on. He was obsessed with testing the limits of the human body, with finding new ways to cause pain. I thought they killed him. I... must’ve been wrong.”

Steve curses and glances over at the file he brought from the base.

“This has to be him then.” he whispers.

“What?”

“Buck, they’re making another Winter Soldier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading the first five chapters of my little project. The rest of the chapters will be published in handfuls, let me know what you think!


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 
> 
> Five years old 
> 
> “I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. We’re good people and we’ve suffered enough.”

“Please, just sit still.”

Jane groans and turns to face her father.

“You’re pulling my hairrrr.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to do it for tomorrow.”

She sighs and crawls into his lap.

“Are you excited?”

“I don’t want to go to kindergarten. I want to stay here with you and daddy.”

Bucky smiles a little, setting the brush down. 

“I know. But you’ll meet lots of other kids your age. You’ll get to make new friends.”

“But I like Morgan and Uncle Peter...”

“I know you do, but won’t it be nice to meet some kids your age? Instead of an infant and a college student?”

“Morgan’s a  _ baby _ , Baba.”

“That’s what I said-”

“And you’re not allowed to do my hair anymore.”

“What? Why not?”

“You pull too much.”

“Well-”

“I want aunt Shuri to do it.”

Bucky groans and leans back against the couch.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks from the kitchen.

“She wants Shuri to do her hair.”

Steve laughs.

“Jane, Shuri lives in Wakanda, it’s really far away.”

“Well you have super-fast planes.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Steve shrugs.

“You could give her a call.” he suggests.

“ _ You _ give her a call.”

Steve raises his eyebrows disappointedly and Bucky sighs, succumbing and reaching for his phone. It only takes a few sentences before Shuri agrees to come over, insisting that she’ll make in in an hour or less. Bucky apologizes profusely but she shuts him up: ‘That’s what a godmother’s for, moron.’ She makes good on her promise, arriving in 54 minutes.

Jane sprints to her, engulfing her in a hug when she arrives. Bucky smiles, he’s glad she has a woman like that to look up to. The princess of Wakanda has matured with elegance and grace, though always willing to crack a joke, pull and obscenely elaborate prank, and take you out on a moment's notice. She’s tough, smart, and a natural born leader, exactly what they hope for for Jane. 

Shuri gasps when she sits on the couch. She picks up the brush and confronts Bucky.

“What have you been doing to this poor child’s hair??”

“I was just-”

“No excuses, Barnes.”

“Sorry.” he murmurs, still unsure of the sin he had committed. 

Jane sits on the floor in between Shuri’s knees while she starts gently smoothing a sort of whi t e cream into her frizzy curls. She explains all the ins and outs of ethnic hair care, and it's way too much for Bucky to take in, he feels like he should be writing this down. She grows quiet as she starts to section off the hair and braid i t.

They put on a movie to entertain Jane, and it somehow starts to summon the other miscellaneous Avengers around the tower. Who know an animated film about a buff god(?) and his flying horse could be so enticing? Eventually they’re all gathered around, scattered across the couch and floor, bundled in blankets, limbs draped over each other. Shuri eventually pauses her work and sets a pot of water on the stove to boil. Bucky doesn’t know what that’s about, but he doesn’t ask. She talks to Jane quietly to help her pick out a couple fun colors to weave in. 

Three movies later, Janes frizzy mass of hair is now neatly tamed into numerous thick box braids, a few with streaks of red, white and blue. Before Shuri lets her show them off, she makes her come into the kitchen so she can seal the synthetic hair with the boiling water. 

Jane then proudly runs in front of the screen and asks what everyone thinks. She’s met with far more compliments than she can handle and eventually she’s too embarrassed to go on standing there so she walks over and buries herself in Steve’s  lap . He laughs and picks her up so she can sit on his lap. 

“Why’d you choose those colors, Jane?” he asks softly when everyone’s attention is reverted to the movie.

“It’s your shield, daddy. It’s the same as the flag outside. It’s your favorite.”

“Well, if it’s  _ my _ favorite then why'd  _ you _ choose it?”

“We can share...”

“Fair enough.”


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7
> 
> Five years old 
> 
> “Gotta hold on easy as I let you go, gonna tell you how much I love you, though I think you already know.”

“Grab your backpack! We’ve gotta go!”

“I have it!”

“You’ve got everything?”

“Yep!”

“Bucky, grab Sam, will you?”

“Why do I have to get him?”

“Well-”

Bucky jogs off before Steve can say anything and catches up with them after he’s found Sam. They spend too long trying to figure out which subway they need to take, and nearly miss it. Bucky’s forced to continue the conversation in the middle of a crowded subway car.

“Why do we have to bring Sam?”

“Jane’s, well, she’s registered under his name.”

“She’s what.”

“Registered under-”

“I know what you said.”

Bucky inhales deeply, closing his eyes in a feeble attempt to calm down.

“Sam?? Really Steve???”

“What-”

“Of all people, Sam. Sam Wilson.”

“Yeah.”

“Why-”

“Bucky, she can’t go into the school system with a name like Rogers-Barnes. You know what would happen.”

“Alright, yeah. You’re right.”

“Thank you.”

He readjusts his grip on the pole as the car comes to a halt. Sam sidles up next to him as they exit.

“You know I’m right here dude.”

“Sorry.”

They reach street level again, surrounded by the immediate rush and chatter of the city. Steve takes Jane’s hand as they make their way towards the red brick building. It’s rather inviting, with metal door covered in a fresh coat of pale blue paint. There’re many parents out front, hugging children and saying goodbye. 

Bucky pulls his light coat tighter around him as they enter. It’s summer and he’s sweating his brains out but it’s safer this way. He pretends not to notice the people doing a double take at their group, pretends to not care.

They reach the door that Steve says is the right one and enter slowly. Jane wraps her arms around his leg, trying to hide from the few other kids in the room. The teacher, a nice looking woman in her early twenties, looks up and comes over to greet her.

“Hey there,” she begins in a soft, kind voice, “what’s your name?”

Steve looks down and when she shakes her head and doesn’t answer, he does for her.

“This is Jane.”

She smiles.

“Hey there Jane. Can I show you your seat?”

Jane nods hesitantly, and slowly unwraps herself from Steve’s leg, taking the teacher’s hand and lets herself be led across the room. The teachers gives her a paper to draw on, and shows her the art bucket on her table. A smile slowly creeps over her face when she begins picking out colors and the teacher leaves her to attend to other kids. 

Steve goes over to her and lets her know that they’re going to leave. She jumps out of her seat and gives him a hug then runs over to give Bucky a hug too. He kneels down and scoops her up as she comes running.

“Bye, Baba.”

“I’ll see you tonight. Have fun, make friends, be safe.”

“I know.”

He puts her down and she turns to go back to her seat.

“Hey, forgetting somebody?” Sam asks. She laughs and gives him a hug before running back to her drawing.

Back on the street, Steve puts his arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

“She’ll be alright.”

“Alright? C’mon Steve, she’ll be great.”

“She will.”


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8 
> 
> Eight years old 
> 
> “Family isn’t always blood. It’s the people in your life who want you in theirs. No matter what.”

Sarah Jane Wilson is known by her teachers as a sweet girl, with a quick mind and an even quicker tongue. But she’s always been different, raised under much different circumstances, conditioned differently. 

They were making crafts for Mother’s Day in Ms. Felton’s class. After receiving instruction to draw your mother, Jane came up to her desk and very calmly asked her who a mother was. Ms. Felton had explained that typically she’s the one who keeps the house in order, takes care of you, etc.

Later, when walking around and talking to the students, she asked Jane who the red-head she had drawn was. 

“That’s Aunt Pepper.”

“Aunt? If she’s your aunt, she’s not your mom, right?”

“Oh.”

She slowly started accumulating drawing of women who weren’t her mother, Pepper, Natasha, Wanda, Shuri, MJ, they all got drawings on Mother's Day. 

Mrs. Patterson remembers one day in second grade when Jane came to school half asleep, in her pajamas. She had sleepily explained that her dad had come home late so she was woken up to go see him in the hospital. When Mrs. Patterson had asked if he was okay, she had told her that it was fine, and it happened all the time.

The media caught on quickly to the Wilson girl. She was spotted frequently with miscellaneous Avengers and was assumed to be the daughter of one Sam Wilson. They could never pinpoint the mother, whoever she was, she wasn't in the picture.

She was athletic, strongly opinionated, and very vocal. Though normally laid back and tolerant towards others, when someone attacked another, or spoke against equality, she felt the need to fight back. Physically. There were several occasions where the front office has to make cautious phone calls to her guardians asking them to pick her up because she had been suspended for giving a fellow student a black eye. 

More often than not, Steve Rogers accompanied by Bucky Barnes or Sam Wilson, or both, would arrive, still in a bloodstained suit, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and take her away. 

As she grew, Jane only became fiercer, quicker, and stronger in her stance, though altercations with fellow students dropped. She was not the best student, though she passed all her classes and generally was in good fellowship with her teachers. But she was incredibly street smart, and often on her own. 

Everyone who crossed paths with her agreed, she was quite remarkable. She could do anything with that fire, anything.

And that’s what scared them.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9
> 
> Twelve years old 
> 
> “When this is all over, you will discover that this was never chance.” 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Implied/Referenced abuse, Implied/Referenced human trafficking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I speak choppy Spanish from Spain, so if anyone who speaks fluent Spanish or knows Puerto Rican dialect and has a suggestion please let me know!

“I’m not nervous.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Shut up, you can’t read my mind.”

“I’m about as close as you can get.”

Bucky glared at  Steve , and he laughed, then returned his focus to the road. Jane wiggled anxiously in her seat.

“What’s his name again?” she asked.

“Connor.”

“Is he a baby?”

“That’s what they told us...” Bucky’s voice trailed off as Steve slowed down in front of the place that was supposedly the adoption center. It was run down, in a bad part of town and covered with vulgar graffiti.

“Are you sure this is the place?” he whispered.

“Pretty sure.”

Steve glanced around, to Jane and the empty car seat next to her, and back to the building. He double checked the address. This was it. Maybe it was nicer on the inside. The woman he had talked to on the phone repeatedly had assured him that she would deliver.  Steve didn’t really know what that meant. He felt another pang of guilt and regret, knowing he hadn’t come upon the offer in the most respectable of ways , but a child was a child, and he really only pursued it in hopes to bring the kid into a safer place. 

The story he had been told was similar to that of Jane’s mother, a young woman who had found herself pregnant at the wrong time. However,  Jane’s mother, Amy, had been more than happy, even insistent that Steve and Bucky be involved in the process. They had accompanied her to  doctors' appointments and had taken Jane home from the hospital when she was born.  This girl, who Steve didn’t even have a name for, didn’t even want to be seen. 

They exited the car. Jane, visibly nervous, took Steve’s hand. They found their way to the door and opened it to find a dirty front office, with an older woman  standing anxiously in the center of it . She looked up at them expectantly.

“Uh hi, we’re here to see Connor?”

It took a moment for the woman to register what he had said. She finally nodded,  turned, and left. Steve and Bucky shared concerned glances and went to sit down on the few folding chairs on the  perimeter of the room . They waited for twenty minutes, Bucky continually expressing how nervous the room made him, until the woman arrived. She was holding the hand of a small Latino boy, who looked to be maybe eight years old. His hair was shaggy and unkempt, with brown eyes peeking through dark bangs. His clothes were too small, and his arms were thin and discolored with bruises. He had a gash around his left eye that was swollen. 

The woman spoke to him in English, but with a thick Spanish accent that Steve had a hard time understanding. The boy nodded slowly and took a hesitant step towards the family and held his hands out as if presenting himself. 

Bucky was the first to speak.

“Hey there, is your name Connor?”

He nodded. Bucky held out his hand for a handshake and Connor visibly flinched.

“It’s alright, I just want to shake your hand.”

Connor complied, relaxing a bit and meeting Bucky’s hand with a surprisingly strong grip. When he let go, he took another step closer, eyes fixated on the metal arm. The woman said something to Steve, asking him to come and look over some paperwork. Bucky didn’t hear.

Connor’s hand met the back of Bucky’s, gentle enough that it didn’t even set off his pressure sensors. He looked up at the man.

“Robot.” He murmured. His voice was shaky and laced with a Spanish accent.

“Just the arm.”

Connor nodded and rested his other hand on Bucky’s flesh one.

“Yo quiero mirar.”

“¿Que quieres?” Bucky asked, confused.

“Mirar tu brazo.” Connor looked up at him, expectantly. 

Bucky hesitated before slipping off his coat, feeling incredibly exposed in just a t shirt. Connor watched, entranced, then reached out and ran his hand along the panels, tracing the grooves with his fingertips.

“¿Porque?”

“Me gustan mechanicas. Me gusta trabajar con les.”

“Oh.”

Bucky relaxed, releasing any tension he didn’t realize he had developed. Connor climbed into his lap, continuing to run his hand along the arm, looking intently at all the detailing. Jane leaned over and rested her face against his arm and made eye contact with her new brother.

“Hi I’m Jane.”

“Hi, I’m Connor.” he mimicked her tone perfectly. Jane laughed.

“¿Que?”

“You just sound kinda funny, ‘s all.”

“Oh. I don’t speak much English...” he said, taking each word slowly and carefully.

“That’s okay. What do you speak?”

“Español.”

“Oh. I speak Xhosa. But you don’t know that.”

“No.”

They maintained eye contact with each other for a while, in a sort of stare down. It only ended when they were done analyzing and assumed they could stand each other. Steve came back from the front desk and spoke hushed and hurriedly to Bucky.

“I’m going to go put the car seat in the trunk and call Tony, hopefully he can reassemble the nursery before we get back, we’ve got to go home.”

“Is this legal?”

“I don’t know, and I honestly don’t care. We’ll talk about it later, but we’ve got to get him out of here.”

“Okay.”

He turned back to Connor while Steve took Jane’s hand. 

“We’re going to leave is that okay?” he said slowly.

“Yes. Where?”

“Home.”

“Home?”

“Yes, you’re going to come live with us.”

“How long?”

Bucky paused. He didn’t know really.

“Forever, I guess. There’s a room with a bed waiting for you.”

Connor looked away, considering all this, then nodded. 

“Yes, I’ll come with you.”

“Okay.”

He slipped off his lap and made his way to the door ahead of Bucky, going so quickly that the door was closed again by the time Bucky got to it. Steve patiently tried to show the boy how to use a seat belt, but Bucky had to translate because he couldn’t understand him. When all the doors closed and they were on their way, the two men shared a nervous look.

This wasn’t really what they had signed up for.


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10 
> 
> Twelve years old 
> 
> “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Implied sexual abuse, Implied/Referenced domestic abuse, Implied/Referenced human trafficking

Connor warmed up quickly. Once he knew that the three of them were no longer a threat, he was very willing to tell them about all the things he liked and how, once, he had fixed a flashlight all on his own. He spoke quickly and quietly, as if he had never gotten the chance to talk about himself before. He told them how cool he thought Iron Man was, how much he liked riding the subway (but not by himself cause that scared him), and how he could never figure out how cars really worked cause no one he met would give him a straight answer. He was convinced no one really knew.

Despite being open with them, when Steve tried to help him out of the car, he winced and wouldn’t let Steve touch him. 

When they reached the elevator, he raced Jane to press the button. He won. Jane insisted this was because he had gotten a head start, but Connor believed he was simply faster than her. Bucky assured them once they got inside, they could have a proper race. 

In the elevator, Bucky briefed the boy on what was to be expected when they reached the living quarters. There were probably people around who would like to meet him, and they were all nice. Connor nodded along, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He explained that all their friends were soldiers who fought to protect people, and that they were called the Avengers. 

“The Avengers? Like Iron Man and Captain America?”

Bucky smiled.

“Yes.”

Connor nodded, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. _ Yeah, he could live with that. _

The elevator stopped and the door slid open, letting the usual bustle of the commons fill the small space. Jane ran out and promptly dragged Aunt Nat over to meet her new brother. She explained that he spoke Spanish and liked cars. Connor nodded. She spoke so quickly that he couldn’t understand her, but whatever she was saying, it was probably right.

“Hi, I’m Natasha.”

“Hi Natasha.” She smiled and shook his hand. He smiled too.

“What happened to your eye?” 

Connor shrugged and shook his head. Nat dropped the question, instead asking him if he’d like to see his bedroom. He agreed and let himself be led gently by the hand.

Little Morgan Stark sprinted out of his bedroom, carrying a stuffed dog. Natasha and Connor jumped out of her way as she was quickly followed by her father chasing her down the hall. Tony scooped her up and tried to explain to her that the dog was Connor’s and had to go back to his room. She countered that she was just trying to give it a home until Connor got here. 

Tony paused and turned back to make eye contact with the little boy against the wall, eyes wide and scared out of his mind. He set Morgan down and carefully approached him. 

“Hey, kid. You alright?” Tony crouched to be at eye level. 

Connor nodded, though his breathing remained unsteady. He closed his eyes.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you.” His eyes traced the boy’s face, looking for any signs that he was relaxing. He couldn’t find any. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

Connor nodded again, as though trying to convince himself that this was true, and he was alright. He opened his eyes and looked up. Tony met him with a gentle smile.

“Okay.”

Natasha took his hand again and pushed the door open. The y disappeared inside.

Bucky stopped watching, Nat was with him and he was fine.

He leaned against the kitchen counter and let Steve press a kiss to the side of his face. 

“It’s alright. He’ll be alright.”

Bucky nodded, he knew, but it still scared him. 

“What did you find there?”

“Buck, the papers they had me sign, they weren’t adoption forms, it was like a receipt. ”

“You don’t mean-”

“Yeah, I don’t know how he got into the system but he’s the youngest kid I’ve seen. I’ve shut down my fair share of trafficking sites but usually they’re teens. I don’t know-”

“We’ve gotta do something.”

“Don’t you worry, I know. I know. But I don’t want to run off guns a-blazin' right now.”

“Fair.”

“Give it a day or two.”

Bucky nodded and rested his head on Steve’s shoulder. His stubble was scratching his neck, but he didn’t mind. Steve ran his fingers through his hair.  _ They never got any down time, did they? Always one more thing. One more thing to do. _


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11 
> 
> Twelve years old 
> 
> “I wonder if the family will be together once again, over there on heaven’s shining shore. Never more to separate, I wonder if the family will all come home.” 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Injuries, Implied/Referenced abuse

Connor sat down on his brand new bed. 

It was soft and navy blue and he liked it very much. 

Morgan sat next to him.

“This doggy belongs to you.” she said.

“Oh. Me?”

“Yes. Her name is Maggie and you have to be nice to her.”

Connor nodded and slowly took the stuffed beagle. He gave her a pet on the head and looked up at Morgan for approval.

“I think you’ll be a good owner.”

“Okay.”

They stared each other down for a minute, silently assessing the other.

“Can I show you Uncle Bruce?” Morgan asked, “He can fix your eye.”

“Is he nice?”

“He’s the nicest.”

“Okay.”

She took his hand and led him out the door and down the hall. Steve glanced over and saw them leaving and called after them.

“Where are you two going?”

“Mirar Uncle Bruce!” Connor called back. Steve smiled and followed them down the hall, keeping a reasonable distance so they still felt independent.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“I’m eight.”

“I’m seven.”

Morgan led him to a large door that slid open when they approached it. Connor was taken aback by the sudden movement and had to be dragged inside by the younger girl. He paused just as the doors closed behind him.

The lab was large, even larger from his perspective. Clean machinery and holographic blueprints were scattered around. A large 3D printer hummed busily in the corner. Unfinished projects lay disorganized under worktables. Connor  _ really _ wanted to touch everything.

A man in a cable knit sweater was working on something at a nearby table. 

“Uncle Bruce!”

He turned, surprised, but relaxed when he saw the two kids. 

“Hey, what’re you up to?”

“Connor needs his face fixed.”

Bruce nodded, and looked over at Steve, who had sat himself down on a table.  _ This is Connor? _ Steve nodded and shrugged, a soft smile on his face.

“Okay, why don’t you come over here.”

Connor stepped forward, putting on his bravest face when Bruce kneeled to look at him. When he took his face in his hands, Connor winced and looked away, visibly disassociating himself from the situation. He breathed steadily, maintaining an impressive amount of control for someone so young. 

Bruce asks him if it’s alright is he sits on the table so he can work easier. Connor nods, but doesn’t let the man help him up, he clambers onto the metal surface on his own. Bruce gently explains what he’s going to do, how washing it out will probably hurt and he may need a few stitches. Connor takes it all well and follows all his directions.

When he’s finished, Connor’s got three stitches, a heathy coating of bacitracin on his face, and strict instructions not to get it wet for the next 48 hours. He gets himself off of the table and walks over to Steve. He puts his hand on his knee and holds his face up.

“Does it look good?”

“Sure does. Does it feel better?”

“Feel?” Connor asks.

“Does it hurt?”

“Un poco.”

“Um okay.”

“Do you want to go show dad?”

“Dad?”

“Um,” Steve racks his brain for the little Spanish he’s picked up from being around Tony. “Uh, Padre? Con...uh, brazo?”

“Oh. Yes, I want to show him.”

Connor slips his hand into Steve’s and Steve stares at him for a moment. He’s shocked by how quickly this child learns to trust; how adaptable he is. 

“¿Donde esta el?”

“Um... I don’t know what you’re saying. I’m sorry.”

Connor shakes his head, but doesn’t let go of his hand, instead simply following Steve out of the lab, leaving Morgan and Bruce to their conversation about how stitches work. 

Once the boy sees Bucky, he lets go and runs off to go show him his brand new stitches. Steve can’t understand what they’re saying, and he feels a sharp pang of inadequacy, but he pushes it away, knowing that the boy trusted him enough to let him hold his hand. 

“Tú mires guay, muchachito.”

“¿yo?”

“Si, eres valiente.”

“No soy.”

“Si, eres.”

Connor smiled and climbed onto the couch next to Bucky. He leaned over to rest against him and let his eyes close.


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12 
> 
> Thirteen years old 
> 
> “For the debt I owe, gotta sell my soul.” 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Implied/Referenced violence, PTSD

Jane loved the city. Everything about it. The architecture, the people, the streets. She loved it. She loved being out with her friends. Her one friend, really. Skylar, she was quiet, calm, patient, everything Jane seemed to lack. They got along well. 

“You sure you know how to get to the library from the school?”

“Yes, I’ve been this way a million times.”

“If you get us lost, it’s your fault.” Sky shrugged.

“I’ll take the blame. Your dads like me.”

“Fair.”

They strolled along, jaywalking where they could get away with it, eventually coming upon Bryant park and the large cement steps to the library.

“Told ya.”

Jane laughed and jogged up the stairs. They had this dumb project that required them to look up old newspapers with the machines at the library. Jane didn’t think those even  _ existed _ anymore, but apparently; she was wrong. They had to ask around to figure out where the microfilms were at, but the found them eventually. The two girls rifled through the files. Jane picked a few cards from 1956, a few from 1976, and a few from 1996 and some from 2016.

The project was a report on news themes from different decades. Jane thought it could be interesting, but she was mostly annoyed that she had to trek all the way here to do it. She turned on the microfilm and went to work sifting through the articles. 

She was mostly through one from 1976 when her heart stopped. The headline read:

** Seventy Six Dead in Apparent Terrorist Attack. US Government Pins ‘Winter Soldier’. Real Threat or Government Scapegoat? **

Below was a blurry picture of a man she knew all too well. The star emblazoned on the metal arm could be seen clearly through the chaos.

She kept on searching,  _ that can’t be right, he had to have been framed. Her baba was a good man. _ She found another from 1996 and one from 2016.

** Senator Murray Dead in Explosion. Soviet Involvement Suspected. Winter Soldier or Just a Gas Leak? **

** WE LET A MASS MURDERER WALK FREE James Buchanan Barnes, Winter Soldier Acquitted of All Charges. **

She felt sick, she couldn’t believe this. Her thoughts were going too fast because this can’t be true. This can’t be. She fumbled with the microfilm, pocketing the few she needs. 

“I have to go home.”

“You okay-”

“Sorry, see you later, Sky.”

“okay.”

Her hands were shaking so bad, she could barely scan her MetroCard. She ran into somebody getting off the subway and almost knocked them over, but she didn’t stop or apologize, she just kept moving. She has to. She could feel tears pricking her eyes, but she vows to never cry in public, no one can stop her and ask if she’s okay, ask where her parents are.

Jane made her way to the back entrance of the tower and took the long elevator ride to the living quarters. When she  exited, she’s met by the person she wanted least of all to see. 

“Hey, I thought you were at the library with Skylar.”

He looks tired, eyes sunken, hair lazily tied back, cup of coffee in hand. She can’t help but look at him differently now. She can’t speak.

“Are you okay?”

“Is Connor home?”

“He’s in the lab with Morgan. Are you okay?”

She shook her head and closed her eyes. 

“Hey, come here.”

Bucky took her gently by the arm and led her into his room. He sat down next to her on the messy bed. 

“Where’s dad?”

“He’s gone. Russia, Pakistan, I don’t know anymore.”

Jane slowly slipped the microfilm from her pocket.

“Baba...”

She handed the film to him, and he took a look at it. The headlines were barely legible, but he was able to make it out. She watched him stare down at the plastic, tired eyes tracing the incriminating words. He sighed; his breathing shaky. She watched his lip quiver and his eyes grow red.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this. I should have told you.”

“Told me, what?” She prayed to some god out there that this wasn’t real, please just let this be a fabrication, let this be fake, let him have a reason. 

“Jane,” he paused, unsure of how to go on. “Well, it’s a long story.”

“I don’t have plans.”

“You know I was a soldier, right? You know I fought in World War II.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well-” he struggled to put the words together. It felt wrong to just straight up tell your daughter about all your trauma. It was hard enough talking to Steve about these things, especially now. He didn’t want to tell her, but she had to know. Had to hear it from him.

So he did.

It occurred to Jane that she had never seen her father cry before. He never did.

She didn’t blame him, really. The stuff he told her was horrific, and she knew he was leaving a lot out. She understood that all of these things weren’t him. Her father wasn’t made up of his actions, the actions of those controlling him. It wasn’t right. But she did know who he was now, and the guilt he showed her seemed to make it alright. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Baba, don’t do that to yourself.”

“I’m sorry I hadn’t told you already. I’m sure it scared you.”

“I’m not scared anymore.”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not.”

She scooted forward and wrapped her arms around his torso. He relaxed into the hug immediately, pressing his face against her shoulder. 

“I love you, Baba.”

“I love you too.”


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 13 
> 
> Thirteen years old 
> 
> “I don’t trust anything, or anyone, below the sun. And I don’t feel anything at all.” 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Implied/Referenced drug use, Implied/Referenced self harm, Implied sex

Bucky hung his head when the security alarm went off.

He  _ swore  _ he had clearance; this was his  _ bedroom _ for cryin out loud. The door wasn’t even locked, why was the alarm blaring?? He just wanted to lay down. 

“Bucky?”

Well that explains it.

“I thought you were still gone.” Bucky heard himself talk from somewhere else. 

“Come inside.”

He complied and Steve shut the door behind him. 

“Why’d you set the alarm on me.”

“I was tired and wanted to be woken up when you decided to come home.” Steve helped him sit down on the bed. Bucky’s head was killing him, he just wanted to lay down for a bit. His head met the pillow harder than he intended.

“Let me see your arm.”

“Why?”

“Don’t smart mouth me.”

He surrendered his right arm. Steve took it not-very-gently in his hands, quickly searching for puncture wounds in the myriad of scarring. He found a cluster in the crook of his arm and sighed, tossing the arm away and laying down. 

“It’s disgusting isn’t it.” Bucky mused, laughing a little while he inspected his own arm.

“It’s just a few punctures, you’ll be okay.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Bucky, you’re high.” Bucky stood and went to the closet to find some pajamas.

“I know.”

Steve watched him methodically remove his clothes and slip on a pair of flannel pajama pants. He wouldn’t stop shaking. He had only come home this high twice before, and it scared Steve. He didn’t know what to do, how to handle it. He didn’t know why he did it. It comforted him to know that Bucky was smart enough that he would be sober by morning. He always was. The kids could never know. 

Bucky stood staring at his refection in the blackened window. 

“Hey, come back to bed.”

“Steve,” the tone of his voice had changed. He was farther away, less aware. “Why do you love me?”

“Bucky...”

“Why?”

“Come back to bed.”

“Why do you stay?”

He turned, expression fierce, demanding an answer. 

“Because I love you-”

“No.” He was sure, convinced of himself. “You just love the old Bucky. You want him.”

“Bucky, that’s ridicu-”

“No. You know I’m right; you know you wouldn’t stick around if I wasn’t someone you  _ used _ to love.”

“You know I still-”

“ _ Look at me Steve _ .” He gestured to himself. Steve let his eyes trace the blotchy skin, the scars, the week-old cuts under the stitches he had given himself. Yeah, you could say it was a mess, but  _ he still wanted it. _

“Come here.”

Bucky sighed and crawled onto the bed, finally giving in and letting Steve wrap his arms around him. He smelled like smoke and alcohol and something bitter that Steve couldn’t place. He ran his hand across the ribcage, anticipating every bump and divot. He had this whole body memorized, every last inch, every scar and the story behind it. 

Bucky hummed contentedly into Steve’s shirt. Steve knew that he had been starved of contact for almost a full month, he had kept on getting transferred from mission to mission without a stop at home. 

He mouthed along the skin between Bucky’s neck and shoulder, pressing gentle kisses and occasionally teasing at the skin with his teeth. Bucky slipped a hand up his shirt and felt along his back, softly putting pressure on whatever knots he found, gently working the stress out of his muscles. When Steve was finally sick of the waiting, he grabbed Bucky by the ribcage and turned him onto his back, straddling his hips.

Bucky chuckled as Steve deepened the kiss, biting at his lower lip. 

“What?”

“I’m still high as...well- somethin’ that’s high.”

Steve moved back down to his neck and began lightly sucking a mark into the skin.

“Well you can sleep it off later.”


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14
> 
> Fourteen years old 
> 
> “Can’t commit to anything but a crime.” 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Racism, Implied/Referenced underaged alcohol use

Bucky laid himself down on the cold metal flooring of the quinjet. He was glad to be out, really, though it was exhausting and the bruises on his ribcage throbbed. Somehow Fury had found out about a few of his...well, unsavory habits and had forced him through rigorous testing and rehabilitation before letting him work again. Somehow Fury always found out. Not all of it though, Bucky was good at keeping secrets.

Steve sat against the wall next to him, the tip of is boot just barely making contact with Bucky’s thigh. Not enough to be uncomfortable but enough to keep them grounded, to still know that the other was there. 

A phone buzzed, distantly. Bucky could tell it was on the floor somewhere cause he could feel the vibrations in his spine. Steve groaned and picked it up, glanced at it and then showed Bucky the screen.

“You know this number?”

“No.”

He shrugged and answered it anyway. Bucky watched him lazily, soon being distracted by his own thoughts until Steve cursed, assured the other end that he’d ‘be right there’ and hung up.

“Who was that?”

“NYPD.”

“What do they want this time?”

“They don’t want Captain America; they want someone to come pick up Jane.”

“Jane? Is she okay?”

“She just got arrested.”

Bucky looked at him, confused, sure that what he just said was incorrect.

“Really?”

“That’s what they said. ID checks out and she gave them my number to pick her up. Oh, and there’s a fine we need to pay.”

Steve rubbed his face with his hands and was suddenly very grateful that they had been sent on this mission alone. He set his phone back on the floor and made a move to stand up.

“What for?” Bucky asked.

“Didn’t say.” 

He began rerouting the autopilot for the police department, not really caring that he was about to land a multimillion dollar jet in a public parking lot. He was just going to pick his daughter up and find out what on earth was going on.

When they landed, Steve marched quickly and confidently up to the front desk, despite the gashes along his face and the blood covering his uniform. Bucky followed him more hesitantly. He did not want to be here at all, much less dressed like this. After Steve had shown two forms of ID and paid the fine, the woman went back to get Jane. 

Steve bounced his leg nervously the entire time and kept on making eye contact with others in the room who were giving him strange looks. Bucky was just praying she hadn’t killed somebody. 

The woman finally came back with a tired and terrified Jane. She looked fine, other than her shaky hands and wide eyes. Steve immediately grabbed her by the arm and stormed out to the parking lot. 

“Steve-!” Bucky went after him, concerned that Jane at least gets a chance to explain herself before Steve lost his mind.

Once the jet had taken off again, they sat her down and demanded an explanation.

Jane stared back at them with a slight look a defiance. Bucky had to put a hand on Steve’s back when he opened his mouth to demand a second time, but she looked down and just started crying. 

“I’m-I’m so sorry, I-” she choked out between sobs, “I didn’t mean to make you worry, really, I just- I had to-”

“Had to what, Jane?” Steve asked quietly.

“They arrested me for...for making a public disturbance.”

“What happened?”

She didn’t answer right away, instead just shifting with regret.

“It was just Sky’s old girlfriend, dad, you know she’s a douche. She saw me get off the subway and she was sayin all this stuff, dad, I-” she started crying again. Steve reached out and put a comforting hand on her knee. “She told me to either kill myself or go back to Africa.”

Bucky cursed and moved to put an arm around her. 

“You know you don’t have to listen to those people-” She cut Steve off.

“I know dad, I know. It’s just...”

Jane stopped again, her face twisting with regret and anxiety.

“Dad, I was drunk, we got into a fight, nearly pushed her into the tracks and-”

“You were drunk?”

“You know that’s illegal right?”

“I know-Iknowijust"

Steve shook his head, less concerned about the arrest and the fine, more concerned about just how much he didn’t know about his own daughter. Was he really that unapproachable? Did she not feel safe talking to him? Maybe he wasn’t around enough. He really needed to back off on the hours he put in.  _ But people needed him _ . He didn’t know that for sure, right? He didn’t know much anymore. He was supposed to have the answers but really, he just did what he was told.

He stopped himself and scooted closer to her, wrapping his arms around her shaking frame. She pried her hands out of her lap and wrapped them around his forearm, clinging on for dear life. Steve looked over at Bucky, who simply made solemn eye contact then closed his eyes, resting his head on their daughter’s shoulder. 

She was going to get a much sterner talking-to once she had calmed down, but for now, he thinks she just needs them there.


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 15
> 
> Fourteen years old 
> 
> “When I recover, will you take me back again? The photographs remind me of who I used to be. Maybe I can go back to when I was me.” 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Past self harm references

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gift you with a breaker-happy-chapter.

“You ready?”

“Yep.”

“This is the point of no return, you sure?”

“Stop askin’ me, I might just back out.”

The girl laughed and went to put her gloves on. Bucky fought the urge to look down at his arm, and when his eyes flicked downwards, he was met with a sharp slap on the knee.

“You can’t look.”

“Shut up, Steve I know.”

Steve held eye contact with his partner until they both cracked up, unable to stay serious. Bucky quieted first and bou ced his knee nervously.

“You worried?”

“No, well. Kinda, a tattoo’s kinda permanent. And I don’t know what you’ve designed. As far as I know you’ve drawn a big penis and this artist thinks she’s got to tat a penis on some dude’s arm.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“You would.”

“Maybe.”

They laughed a little and made an attempt to quiet down when the girl came back.

“Alright, this is it huh?”

“Yep.”

“Okay!” She pulled out her  machine and it began to make an unsettling buzzing noise that almost made Bucky rethink his decision. She warned him about the initial prick, but it wasn’t bad at all. The pain was dull, almost soothing and Bucky could easily tune it out. She began making small talk with him and Steve, asking them where they were from, how they met, if they had kids.

She told him again that the tattooing would take a long time because of all the scarring they were trying to cover up, she had to go over the raised bits multiple times, had to take it slower, etc. 

“Why’d you choose to get tattooed?” She asked. It was a normal question, but it threw Bucky off a little bit. 

“Um, just to get the scarring covered I guess.” She nodded, focused on her work.

Really it was more than that. 

Bucky hated looking at himself. He hated other people looking at him. Even Steve, he hated the way Steve looked at him more than anything. He was so... _ disgusting _ . He didn’t understand why Steve continued to want him. It made him uncomfortable when his kids looked at him. He had never told them what the scars were from, and never intended to. They didn’t need to know about the torture he had endured, and the pain that he had even put himself through. Mostly, it was for them. 

It had been Steve’s idea. After another particularly rough night, he had suggested that maybe if he covered it up, he would have another reason to not destroy it. Bucky had agreed but had no idea what he wanted. When Steve asked to design it, he very willingly turned it over. 

The process took  seven whole hours. When she was done, she let him know and led him over to the mirror while he kept his eyes closed. He opened on the count of three.

He blinked a few times while his eyes adjusted, confused at first by the mass of black on his right forearm. He moved closer to the mirror, holding his arm out to better inspect it. The tattoo went from his wrist to a few inched above his elbow. Wrapping around the arm were bold black lines that formed intricate and complex patterns that he immediately recognized as traditional Wakandan tribal patterns. They were perfectly designed to cover the scars and though Bucky looked hard, they were barely noticeable anymore. He could still feel them when he ran his hand along the skin, but you could hardly tell if you were just looking.

Steve watched Bucky grin like a fool and give the artist a hug, thanking her for the job. He then approached Steve, wrapping him in a hug. Steve pressed a kiss to the side of his face.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. I love you.”

“I love you.”

The artist washed his arm, wrapped it, and gave him instructions on how to care for it for the next week. She thanked them for coming in and they were on their way. 

When they arrived back at the tower, Bucky, excited, ran to find his kids.

“Guess what I did!?!” he declared upon entering the kitchen.

“What?” Connor asked enthusiastically.

“You finally bought milk again?” Jane suggested.

“Uh, no. I still need to do that, but I did do _ this _ -” He held out his arm, still wrapped in shiny plastic wrap, but you could see the bold black tattoo underneath.

“No WAY-”

“GUAY!”

They both immediately dropped down from the kitchen stools and ran over to check it out. Steve leaned against the counter and watched the three of them admire the artwork. 

“Did Dad draw it??”

“He did.”

“Yeah, I worked with Shuri to design something meaningful. As well as non-offensive.”

“I like it.” Connor declared.

“Thanks.”

Other reactions to the ink were varied, mostly because Bucky really didn’t tell anybody else. Natasha simply glanced at it and nodded her approval when she saw it. Shuri had texted him demanding pictures. A random lady on the street felt compelled to stop him and inform him that ‘tattoos are forever, are you sure you’re okay with that?’ Most everyone else didn’t seem to care that much, and Bucky liked that. The whole goal was to help him disappear just a little bit more. Maybe start to live a life that was a little more normal. Steve seemed to have other plans.

Soon after, he took on two more squadrons, which meant him being gone twice as often, leaving Bucky on his own while the kids were at school. He got good at 9 th grade algebra and making ham sandwiches (one with mustard, one without) as well as learning to sleep on his own most nights. 

Jane especially missed him; she had always been closer to Steve. She was always asking when he’d get home and would refuse to sleep when he was to fly in late at night, insisting she meet him at the landing bay. 

After a few months of this, Bucky started to give up on waiting up for him. He never got back when he said he would, and never wanted to talk about the missions after the fact. When Steve got home, he would say goodnight to Jane and silently slip into his room, laying down next to his husband without a word. 

They stopped talking after eight months.


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 16 
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “Our love is six feet under, I can’t help but wonder if our grave was watered by the rain.”

Sarah Jane Rogers-Barnes collapsed into the chair in the counseling office.

“Can you explain to me why you verbally assaulted Mr. Jackson?”

“Can you explain to me why he’s a douche?”

The woman across the desk looked over her glasses at the girl and shook her head.

“Could you refrain from foul language?”

“Sorry.”

“You know what, Miss Wilson?”

“What.”

“I’m going to just let you go. I’ll call your father. I know there’s never any reasoning with you. Head to lunch please. You will be removed from Art History with Mr. Jackson.”

“Cool Beans.” Jane picked up her backpack. “Thanks Mrs. Brown.”

“Please don’t come back.”

Jane exited the office, tossing a smile at the secretary, who ignored her, and making her way into the crowded hall and into the cafeteria. She quickly located Sky, with her pale skin and blue hair, she was easy to find. 

“Hey girlie-” Jane pressed a kiss to the top of Sky’s head as she sat down. Sky smiled a bit and went back to her lunch. The two of them had been dating for a few months, but they kept it on the down-low, not really willing for anyone to find out yet. They were happy though. 

“How are you doing?”

“Good, how’d the meeting with Mrs., Brown go?”

“Really well, she didn’t lecture me. She is switching me out of art history though.”

“Cool, you didn’t like that class anyway.”

“Yeah.”

Sky rested her head on Jane’s shoulder while Jane opened up her lunchbox. On top of a neatly packed sandwich was a yellow post it that read ‘Have a good day, be nice  😊 '. Jane smiled and put the note in her pocket.

“That from you dad?” Sky asked.

“My baba, yeah.”

“He’s so nice.”

Jane’s smile strained. “Yeah. Yeah he is.”

Halfway through lunch, her phone started to buzz. She pulled it from her hoodie’s pocket and answered the call. It was Bucky.

“Hey Jane. You at lunch?” he sounded tired.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I just got a call from Sam telling me he got a call from the school-”

“Oh.”

“Jane...”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’m just worried.” Jane’s heart sunk into her stomach.

“Don’t be baba, I’m alright. I didn’t like that class anyway.”

“Okay. I worry about you Jane.”

“Please don’t.”

“It’s kind of my job, you know.”

“I know. Go take a nap.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Jane sighed and hung up. Sky knew not to ask, she simply held her hand and didn’t say a word. When the lunch bell rang, Sky gave her a hug, told her she couldn’t come over after school like they had planned, and left.

Jane didn’t think anything of it.


	17. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “I still say us when I ought to say me, I still say ours instead of mine.” 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Implied/Referenced suicide, character death

Jane got the news at eight the next morning.

Sam had woken her up after another phone call from the school.

She couldn’t breathe.

She almost missed the bus.

She cried during morning announcements. They told the whole school.

So many people pretended to care.

Jane had just left her.

_ She had just left her. _

She should have seen the signs. Skylar had been her best friend. Her first love. It wasn’t right that she was gone so quickly. How had she never talked to Jane? She should have grabbed her arm and asked her to stay, kept her from going home alone. 

Skylar Peterson overdosed at  2 :13 in the morning. It was Jane’s fault. It was. She knew it. Something she did, or didn’t do, something she said, the time she left her to go do something else, it all came back to haunt Jane. 

She denied grief counseling at least six times. All her teachers felt the need to bring it up. Everyone suddenly knew who she was. She turned down the opportunity to speak at an assembly planned a week from now. She didn’t eat lunch. She didn’t show up to math.

Jane was forced to pick up her revised schedule, but she didn’t look at it. Didn’t care. She just wanted to leave. Go somewhere other than here. Get out. Get out.  _ Get out. _

She lived through the next two weeks in a daze. Occasionally attending class just to sleep through it. Sitting on rooftops and smoking. She did  something harder once, on a bad night, but it scared her so much she never went back to that dealer again and even quit the weed for a week. She kept to herself, and after the shock had died down, everyone forgot who she was again.

Jane thought it was better that way.


	18. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “Four days has never felt so long, if three’s a crowd and two is us, one slipped away.”

Connor  Diego Rogers-Barnes was a massive pain in the  ass . He was a cute pain in the  ass , but he was a pain in the  ass .

He knocked on his big sister's door at midnight, asking for help with his  seventh grade English homework that he should have done two nights ago. Jane rolled out of bed, annoyed, and told him to go ask Morgan, _ she knew what she was doing _ . He explained that he had already looked for her, but she wouldn’t get out of bed to help. Jane groaned, sat him down at her desk and spent thirty minutes explaining the forms of rhetoric. 

At one in the afternoon the next day, as Jane sat in the corner of the near empty band room, hood over her head, she received a text from Connor. It simply had a picture of his 15/15 on the rhetoric assignment. Jane smiled.

“There it is!! It’s been, what, two weeks?”

She looked up. The kid was across the room, sitting in front of a snare drum that had been taken off the stand and placed on the ground. His shaggy dark hair framed a lopsided grin. The kid’s name was Josh, and he was another monumental pain in the ass . He reminded Jane of an obnoxious Labrador. 

“There’s what?” she asked.

“A smile. You’ve been sitting in that corner all class period, dead silent, for two weeks, and this is the first time you’ve smiled.”

“Oh.” Jane dismissed the comment and looked back down to her phone.

Distantly, though the sound of her own music in her headphones, she could hear Josh start to play out some upbeat rhythm, talking and joking with the one other kid in the percussion class. She pulled her hood tighter around her face. She had been swapped into this class right as Sky had passed away, and she was all Jane could think about when she sat in here. And all she did was sit. 

The class had no teacher, it was a student led activity group, basically. It consisted of Josh Maxwell, massive nobody, and Alex Harbor, even more massive nobody. Jane didn’t care if somebody was popular or not, but these were the most bland people she had ever met in her life. The class was excruciating boredom for an entire hour. 

For the most part, the boys left her alone. They were nice enough, both friendly, Jane just wanted nothing to do with them. Alex was a funny kid, always wore suspenders with his T shirts, and brought a dozen cupcakes to celebrate Jane joining their class. Josh had eaten at least six, that kid was a _ beast _ . Josh Maxwell was easygoing, liked to make dumb jokes and wear flannels. He looked Latino, was tall and skinny, and had had something happen to the side of his face, it was all scarred and mottled, but Jane had never asked where it came from. 

Jane looked up again when a drumstick hit her in the shoulder.

“Could you not??” she snapped.

“Sorry, I’ve just been calling your name and you won’t respond.”

“What do you want?”

“Here-” he tossed her a practice pad like a frisbee. It flopped to the ground in front of her. The yellowish plastic was worn and scratched, and it had her name scrawled in sharpie along the rim.

“It's for you to take home to practice. That and the drumsticks I threw at you.”

“I don’t play.”

“I know, that’s why I gave you that so you can learn.”

Jane pointedly looked away just as the bell rang. When she scooped up her backpack and stood to make for the door, her eyes locked with Josh’s. He gestured to the practice pad. She glared at him and picked it up, shoving it in with her notebooks as she pushed her way into the halls. He didn’t get to tell her what to do. 

When she got home, it was dark outside. She had spent the night wandering the streets, had stopped by Sky’s grave again, and almost got mauled by a dog in the subway. She set her backpack down on one of the stools on the kitchen, and it fell off, making a loud thud. She didn’t pick it up. 

“Jane?” 

Jane turned abruptly at the sound of her name. Natasha was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall, watching her.

“Hey Aunt Nat.”

“You know it’s eleven, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Bucky won’t be happy.”

“You don’t have to tell him.”

Nat shrugged, nodding a little and made her way towards her, holding her arms out for a hug. The two of them were about the same size, but Jane tried to fit her head under her chin anyways. Natasha had to stand on her tip toes.

“You want to talk, Miss America?” Jane smiled a little at the old nickname.

“Not really.”

“Can I give you some advice then?”

“Sure.”

“You gotta do something with yourself, girl.”

“I’m trying-”

“No, you’re not. I’m not saying you have to move on and forget about your friend. I just mean, you have nothing that you love, nothing you work for. You just...you just  _ exist _ , Jane. Sorry to be honest, but somebody’s got to tell you. You don’t have to find yourself now, but at least try to figure out  _ who you want to be _ .”

Jane stared at her, letting the words sink in, trying desperately to keep them from hurting. They hurt anyway. She glanced over at her backpack and the drumsticks sticking out of the back pocket.

“Okay.”


	19. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 19
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “Is there a reason we’re not through? Is there a twelfth step just for you? Our conversations are in blue; eleven ‘hey’s. Ten fingers tearing out my hair, nine times you never made it there. I ate alone at seven, you were six minutes away.” 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Implied/Referenced drug use, Past self harm references, marriage arguments

Bucky didn’t roll over when he felt a massive weight set itself on the bed. His hands were shaking, and his thoughts were racing, and he couldn’t breathe, and  _ Steve wasn’t supposed to be home yet _ and he wasn't going to let him see him like this. His head ached, and his arm stung, he was high as all hell, but he was crashing fast and just wanted to puke. 

The room was a mess, and Steve couldn’t relax like this. He pulled himself back off the mattress with a groan and began picking old discarded clothes off the floor and tossing them in their hamper. He kicked a couple books and other trinkets back under the bed, nearly tripped over a stack of paperwork he was yet to fill out and pushed all the junk on his nightstand into the drawer. As he made his way back to the bed, he kicked over some glass container and stepped in whatever liquid spilled out of it.

He just stood there for a second, letting it seep into his socks. He curses as he begins to smell the sickly sweet chemical odor of some sort of hard liquor. He doesn’t pick up the bottle but removes his socks, just tossing them across the room. 

Steve raised his eyes slowly to the body on his side of the bed, watching the blankets rise and fall shakily. He can hear his unsteady breaths in the dark, every inhale, every strained pause to make himself seem more asleep. Steve was sick of him pulling this crap.

“Bucky.”

He didn’t respond.

“Bucky. I know you’re awake.”

Still not a word. They sat in the thick silence for a moment.

“James.”

Steve watched the blanket stop moving, then start again, this time quicker. He sat up in bed, letting the blanket fall to the floor. His hair was tied up in a bun, but half of it was in straggling strands that fell around his face. Steve sat down next to him but didn’t brush them out of the way.

“What.”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean.” Bucky dodged the question, staring intently at the wall.

Steve groaned and stood up again, unable to continue sitting still like this. 

“What’s your problem??”

“My problem?” Bucky asked slowly, meeting Steve’s eyes for the first time. The steely blue almost scared Steve, the way they attacked him with a concentrated intensity.

“Why can’t you listen to a single thing I say?”

“I’m listening right now, Steven. What do you want me to know?”

He began pacing anxiously at the foot of the bed, fists clenched at his sides.

“I don’t know. Maybe if you were able to see anything else besides your own issue-”

“Don’t do that-”

“Shut up, I mean it.” Steve stared him down. “Somebody’s got to tell you. Nobody else really gives about you. Come on, Buck. I’m the only one-”

“Don’t say that- you didn’t ever want me.”

Steve turned, to the wall, then back to Bucky, and angry half-smile on his face. 

“Really?”

“Steve you never-”

“All the things I did. Really? You’re just as ignorant as I thought.”

“Steve, you never look at me-”

“Don’t give me that right now, I know good and well-”

“Steven.”

Bucky’s voice was deep, almost raspy and laced with fear. Steve stopped for just a moment, wishing there was something he could say that would change his mind, help him see his flaws.  _ Why couldn’t he understand? _

“What.”

“You know I’ve always loved you, right?”

Steve didn’t answer.

“Since I was fifteen. Never fell for anybody else like I fell for you. I gave you everything, you were all I was ever invested in, and I was in one hundred percent. Always.”

“What are you-”

“Steve, look at me and tell me you wouldn’t leave me if you could go back to Peggy Carter.”

Steve looked away. He hated that Bucky had to bring this up, he hated that he couldn’t ever love him the same way. He was right, maybe he was just his second choice. It wasn’t Steve’s fault that he had fallen before, right? 

Bucky watched him, hoping, praying to some god he didn’t believe in that Steve would tell him that he would choose him again.

He didn’t.

Steve sat down on the edge of the bed, not looking back. 

Bucky stared down at his hands. 

“What do you want to do?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” Steve snapped.

He put his head in his hands and ran them back through his hair, trying to steady his breathing. He felt like something was crushing his chest and _ he couldn’t breathe _ . What _ did _ he want? He didn’t know, really. He just wanted to come home and sleep for a bit and not have to argue with a train wreck that still slept in his bed. 

Steve  _ did _ love him, right? As he looked back at the man behind him, he wasn't so sure. This wasn’t the man he had married. Maybe he never was the man that Steve thought he knew.

“Steve...” Bucky said. 

He wasn’t going to do this to Steve again, he would be sure of it.

“No.” 

“What do you mean-”

“I mean I’m done, Buck. I can’t keep doing this. Not with you.”

“Steve-”

“No, shut up. I’ve put so much effort into... into this,” Steve gestured wildly to the two of them, “I keep on getting nothing in return, it’s tiring. I’m burned out. I can’t.”

He stared at Bucky, and Bucky just stared back, unwilling to accept what was being said. Steve almost laughed at his blank expression, frustrated to the point of amusement. He could feel his lungs pressed up against the inside of his chest, and his throat screamed, raw and irritated.

“This isn’t working. You know it too; you just won’t see it. You won’t do anything about it cause you’re so convinced it has to do with your own misery, Bucky. You’re so busy counting up your trauma that you won’t take the time to solve the issues you’ve created.”

Steve turned and made his way towards the door. He picked up his laptop and a few of his other things on the way. 

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice was quiet and far away.

“What.”

“Did you ever love me?” 

Steve stopped, slid the dark wedding band off of his finger and set it on the nightstand.

“I  _ did _ .”


	20. Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 20
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “Please, please, be here for me, dear 'Cause I've never needed a friend more”

Steve walked down the hall; arms full of random things he had been compelled to grab as he left. For some reason, he had convinced himself he was never going back, but now he knew that was a silly idea. There wasn’t any other place for him to sleep. 

He stopped in front of Tony’s lab, waving his foot around to get the motion sensor to recognize him and set his stuff down once inside. There was a futon somewhere in here that Steve knew Tony would crash on occasionally. It was an ugly old thing that was probably from Tony’s first apartment, but Steve didn’t care. He was exhausted and just wanted a place to lay down. 

He wandered around a bit; he never got a chance to look at the lab without supervision. He found a fridge tucked away in a corner and took a glass bottle of beer out. He took off his shirt and pressed the cold beverage to a large bruise on his ribcage. 

Steve came back to the futon, and after fifteen minutes of trying to get it to lay flat, he gave up and squished himself onto the hard surface. There wasn’t a pillow and his feet stuck out over the edge, but it was alright. He fell asleep quickly, he was exhausted, but drifted in and out of sleep.

At one point, he was aware of somebody else around, but he was too tired to care. 


	21. Twenty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 22 
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “I've learned to lose; you can’t afford to. I tore my shirt to stop you bleeding, but nothing ever stops you leaving.”

Bucky sat in the bed for almost half an hour before moving. 

When he let it all settle in, he stood, moved over to the nightstand, and picked up the ring Steve had left behind. He didn’t cry, didn’t even blink as he slid off his own ring and set the pair back down. 

He hefted his blanket off of the bed and dragged it out the door and down the hall. The tiling was cold on his feet and the blanket made a soft rustling sound behind him that seemed to echo off the walls. He came to Natasha’s door, gave it a small knock, and when there was no answer, he pushed it open. 

She was laying in the center of her bed, turned on her side, facing him. Her eyes were closed. 

He moved towards her slowly, careful to make plenty of noise, to make his presence less of a surprise. When he sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes flickered open, and she watched him without a word for a few minutes. 

“It’s late.” she finally said.

“I know.”

“Lay down.”

She moved over to give him adequate room and he laid on his side, facing her, leaving about a foot of mattress between them. 

“What’s going on.”

He looked away, unsure of if he wanted to tell the truth. 

“Did you fight?”

Bucky nodded.

“Where’s Steve?”

He shrugged.

“Are you going to be alright?”

He looked at her for a while, just studying her face and thinking. 

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s alright to let it hurt.”

He shook his head, and she reached out to touch his arm.

“Don’t do that. You have to respond well, or you’ll never recover.” she said sternly.

“You’re right.”

They sat for a little while longer in the silence. Bucky liked to come to Natasha, because she never demanded an explanation, didn’t care what he was feeling, she just gave solid advice. Sometimes it hurt, and that was alright, because if it hurt it was what he needed to hear. 

He thought about what Steve had said, let it hurt, and tried to let it go. He tried not to be so mad that Steve had never been around, never helped him in the ways he needed it. He tried to understand where Steve was coming from, maybe why he had said the things he did. He  _ tried _ . 

Bucky couldn’t do it. 

He didn’t understand why Steve had to leave them. Why he felt so compelled to work the riskier missions, why he was okay with being gone for months on end. He didn’t understand why it was him that had to be left to take care of their kids, make sure Connor got to his robotics competitions, make sure Jane was staying out of trouble. Bucky hated himself because sometimes it was too much and he  _ didn’t want _ to even be around his  _ family. _

The family that he and Steve had worked so hard for. 

The family that Steve had left behind. 

He tried to hold his breath to keep himself but crying but Natasha’s arms were around his shoulders and soon he was shaking and sobbing into her shoulder. 


	22. Twenty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 22
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “Oh memories, where’d you go? You were all I’ve ever known, how I miss yesterday, how’d I let it fade away?”

Steve woke to FRIDAY’s voice asking for Mr. Stark. He groaned and closed his eyes again, assuming that the AI had mistaken him for the other man. Only when the body he had been clutching to his chest move, did he realize his mistake. 

“Buck?” Steve asked sleepily, as he carded his fingers through the other man’s hair. 

“Huh?” 

The voice wasn’t Bucky's (Or was it? It had been a while, maybe it was him), so Steve opened his eyes to double check. When his eyes met Tony’s, the smaller man shrieked and fell off the futon. Steve hurriedly stood and backed away, heart rate spiking dangerously.

“What’s wrong with you!?” he asked, Tony looked back at him with an expression of confusion and plain fear.

“What do, what do you mean??”

“Well you just-”

“I thought you were Pep-”

“I don’t-”

“Let’s just...”

They stood, maintaining eye contact for a minute and coming to a silent agreement to never speak of this ever again. Tony turned and speed-walked out of the lab.

Steve sighed and sat down on the futon. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and found himself looking through his pictures. He smiled at the more recent ones, ones that Bucky used to send him while he was out. One of Connor and Bucky at a robotics competition, Connor was holding a trophy. Another, a selfie Bucky had taken sitting next to Jane on the subway. He was making a dumb face, and Jane was looking out the window, pretending she didn’t know who he was.

There was one from three years ago of Bucky and Connor passed out on the couch together. Another selfie, this time one Steve took of him and Jane visiting the Statue of Liberty. One with a blurry Jane in the corner and a massive fire in the center (it hopefully had been a controlled explosion in the lab). There was a video of him and Bucky that Jane had taken. That night, after a successful mission, Thor had insisted on throwing a celebration, and the two of them had gotten more intoxicated than intended. In order to prove how sober they were, Jane had asked them to perform the Cha Cha slide. The video featured him and Bucky laughing hysterically while desperately trying to recall the lyrics. Jane was laughing in the background.

There was one Steve had sneakily taken of Bucky with little Connor in his lap, the two of them having a very serious conversation. One of Jane, aged twelve, sitting in the back of the car, her arms crossed, her left eye swollen and bruised. She had gotten into a fight because one student had called her friend some sort of name. Steve couldn’t help but be a little proud. One of Connor and Bucky on the day they met, Connor proudly showing off his stitches. 

There were a lot of little Jane, first days of school, pictures of her and Bucky he would take at restaurants. There was one of four-year-old Jane trying to fit a massive New York pizza slice in her mouth. Next to her, Steve sat watching, with three crusts on his paper plate. 

He stopped at one that made his heart ache. The three of them were on the couch, all asleep. Bucky was cuddled against Steve’s side, and little baby Jane lay on Steve’s chest, a calm, peaceful look on her face. 

Steve turned his phone off and tossed it to the side. 

He ached, everywhere, not just his heart. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he had done, or if it was his fault or not. He guessed it really didn’t matter and didn’t care to make it right. Maybe what he had done  _ was _ the right thing after all.


	23. Twenty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 23 
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “We were borderline kids with a book of disorders.”

Jane tossed her backpack onto the ground. 

The thu d it made caused Josh to look over from his spot on the floor.

“Hey there sunshine.”

She glared down at him. 

He just laughed.

Jane tugged her backpack open and pulled out her drumsticks and the practice pad. She had been drilling herself for the past three weeks, practicing in every spare moment she had. It was the only thing she had to hold onto, the only thing strong enough to keep her focused. She liked it.

“Let’s go over the band accompaniment pieces.” Alex suggested. 

Jane and Josh both nodded, so he picked up his mallet and positioned himself by the bass drum. Josh counted them off, and they began the piece, only to sit through sixty-four measures of rest. Alex hit the bass once.

“Cool I think that’s good.”

“Why do they even ask us to do this stuff. Just get some clarinetist to do it instead.”

Jane shrugged, she didn’t know enough about music to know why this was funny, or if it even was a joke. 

“We’ve got all the others down; I say we get those pieces for the showcase together.”

Jane and Josh once again complied; Alex seemed to be the only one with foresight in the group. 

“Any suggestions?”

“Well-” Jane began. The boys looked at her, a dull look of surprise on their faces. Jane never suggested anything, she always seemed to do the bare minimum, and they were happy enough with that. “I do have an idea.”

They stared at her. 

“Um, well. I don’t have any sheet music, but uh. I know the piece.”

“How are we supposed to-”

“I’ll just teach you guys.”

They watched her with blank expressions, and she nodded back at them, trying to sell her point. 

“Okay, well, I don’t see why not...” Alex trailed off, terribly unconvinced. 

“Let’s give it a shot. We have to perform three numbers, so we’ll prepare a few more just in case.” Josh smiled.

“Thanks.”

“Course.” 

She smiled back at him, unsure, but grateful he had given her a  chance . 


	24. Twenty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 24 
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “But strangely he feels at home in this place.”

Connor left his backpack on the couch.

“Hey son.” Steve said, drawing out the words.

“Hi dad.” Connor drew out the words as well, completing the common exchange. They laughed, but Steve stopped quickly.  _ Was he going to say anything? _ No. If Connor said something he could just lie. He was too used to that. 

“What’s for dinner?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you sticking around?” Connor asked, still distracted by the fridge.

“What do you mean?”

“For dinner.”

“Oh. Probably.”

Connor nodded a little, obviously distraught by the choice of words.

“When does Jane get home?” Steve asked.

“She usually gets back a half hour before I do. Didn’t you see her come in?”

“No.”

“Well, she’s sneaky.”

Steve nodded. _Had he not noticed her come in? How long had he been sitting here?_   
  
“How was... school.”

“It was fine.”

“Okay.”

The exchange only got more awkward and distant, and Steve kicked himself when Connor told him he had homework to do and locked himself in his room. He sat there for a little longer on the couch, and stood when Sam came in, who obviously wanted to start a conversation and Steve was not in the mood. 

He knocked on Jane’s door before entering. She was on the floor, working on homework. 

“Why don’t you use your desk?”

“Oh, you’re home.”

“Yeah.”

He sat on her bed and let his feet dangle off the footboard. He ran his hand along the wood and looked down when he felt divots in the material. The paint was chipped, and the wood was marked with numerous vertical divots that were not by any means small.

“What’d you do to your bed?” 

“Oh, that? Nothing.”

He looked up at her.

“It’s nothing to worry about. Promise.” Steve sighed.

“Alright.”

They were quiet for a little bit, Steve just watching her work on her precalc. 

“How are you doing?” she finally asked.

“Me?’’

“Who else?”

“Right. I’m good, I’m alright.”

“Good.”

“How are you?”

“Alright.”

“What’s been going on while I’ve been away?”

“Well, you know Skylar, right?”

“Course.”

“She’s dead now, so...”

“Jane.”

She didn’t seem to be joking, just stared down at her paper and kicked her legs aimlessly. He noticed the corners of her eyes growing red. She wasn’t kidding. 

“Jane I’m so sorry, I-”

“It’s fine. Uncle Sam and Nat came with me to her funeral. It was nice. I’m okay now.”

“Jane, really? You sure? Something like that-”

“I’m sure, dad, really.”

“ _ Jane _ .”

“It’s been a while. It’s dulled. It’s okay.”

“How long?”

“More than a month.”

Steve paused.

“Jane I’ve been home since then, why didn’t you tell-”

“You were busy, you were shouting at Baba again, I didn’t want to-”

“ _ Jane _ .”

“Stop saying my name like that.”

He shook his head and looked down at the floor. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll...I’ll do better.”

Jane watched him for a bit, confused. 

“I’ll make dinner, that sound alright? What sounds good?”

“Tacos, maybe.”

“Tacos it is.”

She smiled at him and he smiled back before leaving the room. He went back into the kitchen to search for ground beef. He saw Bucky standing in front of the fridge, inspecting its contents. He didn’t say anything, though how much he wanted to. He didn’t know what to say.

Steve opened the pantry and stood there, looking for something. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He glanced over. He didn’t look too much of a mess, hair neatly tied back, a shirt that fit well enough. Honestly, Steve looked more like a disaster and he knew it. He hadn’t slept well, hadn’t changed or showered, and hadn’t combed his hair. 

“Are you sticking around?” Bucky’s words were bitter, and with a far greater intention.

“Actually, I was going to make tacos.”

“Oh, okay.”

Bucky closed the fridge and gave Steve a once-over with his eyes. Steve noticed the ring was gone. 

“There’s beef in the freezer, you can defrost it in the microwave. Don’t burn yourself.”


	25. Twenty Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 25
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “Do I want to know if this feeling flows both ways? Sad to see you go, I was kind of hoping that you’d stay.”

Bucky had been dreading this for the last thirteen hours, but he set the table anyway and helped Steve serve corn tortilla tacos. The four of them sat together at the large table that had originally been designed to fit the entire team, but that rarely happened now. They used to have busy, loud breakfasts, but now it was eerily quiet. 

They made awkward small talk while they ate, making a silent pact to ignore the strain. Bucky caught Jane staring at their hands multiple times and he couldn’t stop his heart from racing because  _ she knew _ . 

_ It’s okay _ , he told himself,  _ stuff happens sometimes _ .  _ They were going to be okay _ . He looked over at Steve, but he didn’t look back. _ Right _ ?

They didn’t know each other now, all four of them. They were strangers who happened to be living together and the thought of that made Bucky’s stomach writhe. Whoever this man was, he didn’t know him. Bucky looked down at his food and tried to remember what his eyes looked like. He knew, but all the images that came to his head were of a smiling boy in an old white shirt. A boy he didn’t know anymore. 

He washed the pans while Steve attempted and small talk with their kids, trying to catch up like he usually did. He excused himself by making eye contact with Connor, who nodded at him. Bucky almost scoffed at himself needing permission from his son to go sit somewhere else. 

He quietly entered what  _ had  _ been  _ their _ room, he supposed it was just his now. It  _ was _ a mess, and he understood now why Steve had been upset. Bucky started cleaning aimlessly, putting bits of trash in the bin, stacking papers neatly on the desk, putting clothes in the hamper. Anything to stay busy. He picked up a whiskey bottle that had been kicked over and sat on the bed. 

The glass was cold in his right hand, and he swirled the bottle lightly, watching as the liquid rushed up the sides, diluting the color. Yeah, maybe it was his fault. He knew he was in the wrong, in some way. He always was. Always was.

He set the bottle down on the nightstand and laid back onto the bed. A blanket was bunched up under his back and it hurt a little, but he didn’t move. His thoughts raced and he wondered if he was just going to pass out or die here but he was just too _ tired _ to care. 

Bucky stared at the two rings stacked on the dresser until he fell asleep.


	26. Twenty Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 26 
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “If you’re going to be the death of me, that’s how I want to go.”

He pushed the door open, careful to push quickly through the part that would squeak. The lights were still on, but Bucky had curled up on the bed and fallen asleep. He had obviously been cleaning, papers sorted into the little boxes Steve had put out and asked constantly to be used. He smiled at that. 

Steve sat on the edge of the bed. Bucky didn’t move, his breathing didn’t change, nothing. Steve half-wondered if he was dead. He pushed the common thought away and set a hand on Bucky’s side. He didn’t want to wake him up, he was content just watching him for now. 

Steve could feel his hip bone through both his pants and the blanket on top of him. He was on his side, his right hand gripping the metal one to his chest. His eyebrows were furrowed, making the creases around his eyes darker. He looked more tired and older than Steve remembered. They didn’t really age, but he could pick out a few spots that weren’t there before. 

Steve ran his hand up and through his hair. It was longer than he normally liked to keep it, about collarbone length, but it was clean and still soft. Steve pushed it out of his face and watched him a little longer, until Bucky sleepily opened his eyes. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.’

They stared at each other for a little bit, content in the silence. Bucky smiled a little.

“I care about you, you know, Buck.”

“I know.”

Bucky traced his hand up Steve’s arm, then tugged at the sleeve of his T-shirt. Steve smiled a little, and complied, laying down. He fit his body into that of the man behind him. He laid still, letting Bucky shift, wrapping his arms around him, drawing him closer to his chest. Steve moved and took the  hand pressed to his chest, lacing their fingers together. He felt Bucky relax, pressing his forehead into the center of his back. He could feel his small breaths through the fabric on his back and he smiled. 

They sit for a few hours like that, as close as two people can possibly get to each other, focusing on each second they spent together, trying to make up for all the moments they spent apart. 

“I want to fix this.” Steve finally whispered.

“Me too.”

Steve ran is thumb across the back of Bucky’s hand. 

“I don’t know how.”

“Me neither.”

Steve felt Bucky press his nose to the skin where his neck met his shoulder. He closed his eyes and let him press little kisses up and down his neck. 

“I’m willing to try, though.” 


	27. Twenty Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 27 
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “That look in your eyes that I missed so much.”

“Are you going to make it?” 

“Well, I’ve got a briefing-” 

“Dad.” 

Jane gave him a stern look. 

“I’ve got to do my job, Jane.” 

“Baba already said he’d come.” 

Steve groaned and pressed his forehead to the kitchen table. He was trying, but it shouldn’t be this hard, right? 

“Fine, yes I’ll make it. Friday, right?” 

Jane grinned, “Yep!” 

She almost skipped off, proud that she had won. Steve raised his eyes and made eye contact with Bucky from across the room, who gave him a small smile, and suddenly saying ‘yes’ seemed a little more worth it. 

Bucky finished making the sandwiches, said goodbye to Jane and Connor, reminding Connor that he had that project he had to work on when he got home, and moved over to Steve, sitting on the table in front of him. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” 

“We’ve got that appointment tomorrow, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

Tony had talked Steve into going back to therapy, and he hated it, but what he hated more was the couple's appointments they had. It was awkward, all the exercises seemed immature. He hated to admit that it was actually helping. 

“I acknowledge and appreciate that you take care of the kids in the morning” he murmured, almost begrudgingly, though what he said was true. It was their homework, to make clear statements about what they noticed the other did, as well as to ‘speak their truths’. Steve didn’t know which one he hated more. 

“I acknowledge and appreciate that you agreed to go to Jane’s performance in the assembly.” 

“To speak my truth, I’m not thrilled.” 

“It’ll be fun. She’s excited.” 

“I know.” Steve smiled a little, remembering her silly grin when he agreed to go. 

“I acknowledge and appreciate that you dropped that team yesterday.” 

“You already said that.” 

“I still acknowledge and appreciate it though.” Bucky said. 

“To speak my truth, I’m worried about how they’ll do without a leader.” 

“They’re smart kids, they’ll learn.” 

Steve nodded and set his hand on Bucky’s arm, tracing the tattoo with his fingertip. “How high are you guys?” Clint's voice startled both of them, causing them to jump. 

“What?” 

“That's probably one of the stranger exchanges I’ve walked in on-” 

“You’ve seen weirder.” 

“Yeah, but not recently.” 

“Shut up.”


	28. Twenty Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 28 
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “You let me in to conversation, a conversation only we could make.”

Jane hammered out the final few beats in an erratic manner, reaching for the bass and the mid tom at the same time. They stood for a minute, letting those final beats ring out. Jane was the one to break the silence. 

“Why do  _ I _ have to play four drums at once?”

“It’s not  _ all _ at once.”

“Well, you know the music best...”

Jane shrugged it off and went to sit on the floor. The two boys joined her, and they sat in the odd little circle of drums for a while, talking, worrying over the upcoming assembly. Alex said he had to go pick up a binder he left in floriculture, and left Jane and Josh alone. 

“So, convince your parents to come?’’ Josh asked. 

“Sure did, took them a while but I got my dad to agree.”

“Good for you, I’m still nagging my mom about it.”

Jane laughed a little and leaned back, so their backs touched. They were facing opposite walls, just like they did in their performance, sitting in the middle of the instruments. Josh leaned his head back so it rested on her shoulder, and continued talking, but she couldn’t listen cause he looked so ridiculous with his neck stretched out, trying desperately to maintain eye contact. 

“What?” he asked when she couldn’t hold back a laugh any longer.

“You’re just a moron, ‘s all.”

“I get that a lot, you didn’t answer my question though.”

“I couldn’t listen with you laying on me like that.”

“Am I that distracting?” he sat up and turned to face her.

“No, I-”

“I just asked if you had any siblings.”

“Oh. Yeah, I do. A brother. He’s fourteen.”

“Sweet, I have two little sisters. One six and the other’s nine.”

“Aw, are they cute?”

“Sure are. They live with my grandparents though.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s just after the divorce, my mom couldn’t get the custody. But we get to see them a lot, so it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, really. I shouldn’t have gone there I-”

“It’s okay. Everybody’s families are messed up in one way or another.”

He smiled, and she smiled back. It was genuine, something Jane hadn’t experienced in a long time. There was something always soft and endearing about the way he did that, did everything, really. He was just a soft boy, with a soft heart. Jane could see it from a mile away.

“Would your dad kill me if I bought you coffee after school today?”

Jane laughed.

“No, I don’t think so. You could take that up with him though, if you’d like.”

“I think I’ve heard enough about him that I don’t think I’ll try that.”

“Good choice, maybe later.” Jane smirked a little. Josh stood and offered to help her up.

“Are you suggesting that there’ll be a later?”

“Bold of you to assume I even said yes.”

“Will you, then?”

“Sure thing.”


	29. Twenty Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 29
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “I didn’t want to believe my feelings for you, I didn’t want to believe that I could lose you if I told you just how I felt.”

“Yes, a boy, Baba. He’s nice, maybe you’ll meet him, but I don’t want you to scare him off.” Jane threw Josh an exasperated glance, he just laughed at her. “I’ll be home for dinner, promise. Is Dad around? Will you let him know? Thanks, love you too.”

Jane ended the call.

“Alright, I’ve got the all-clear!”

“Yes!” Josh gave her a little high-five and they headed off onto the busy sidewalk. A man in a work jacket rushed by and almost knocked Jane into the street, she stumbled forward a  bit, but Josh reached out and grabbed her hand just in time. They kept walking, but he didn’t let go. Jane smiled.

“Here it is!” The café they had stopped in front of was small, squished in between two buildings. It looked dark on the inside, and the red paint was peeling off of the door. Jane couldn’t read the vinyl letters on the window. 

“It looks a little...uh,  rusty, I guess. But it’s great. Promise.”

“I trust you.”

He held the door for her. The tile was yellowish, though it looked to have originally been white, and the place smel led delicious. Jane half wished that they were here for food too. But she had promised to be back for dinner. 

The man behind the counter greeted Josh, calling him by his name, making small talk as they shook hands over the counter. 

“ Quien es la chica?” The man asked, glancing at Jane.

“ Dejala solo, Marco.  No, la  astutes , por favor.”

The man, Marco, apparently, nodded a little and winked at Josh, who threw her a little ‘geez I’m sorry’ look over his shoulder.  He ordered something for the both of them and they went to sit down at a creaky old table in the corner. 

“I take you’re a regular?” Jane said. 

“Yeah, I live close to here, and my sisters love the cocoa here.”

Josh jumped up and went to grab the two cups when their order was called. Jane hesitantly took a sip when it was handed to her. It wasn’t coffee.

“What is this?”

“Cocoa.”

“ No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. It’s Mexican cocoa. It’s got  chili and cinnamon in it. You like it?”

“Yeah, now that you say it.”

Josh laughed a little, amused by her intrigue. Jane’s phone began to buzz on the tabletop, rattling the entire surface. She picked it up and answered the call nervously. 

“Hello? Baba-what-, I’m sure it’s fine. Why are you calling me? Isn’t Dad around? Connor? Tony? Really, come on. You should know how to disable the alarms. Did you sneak through the window? What the he- Baba? I don’t know the password,  _ I’m _ the  _ reason _ you put alarms on the windows. Call Dad.”

She ended the call as  aggressively as you can on a touch screen phone and set her phone back down.

“Do I want to know?”

“It’s just my Baba, he...well. He’s something.”

“Your family seems like fun.”

“That’s one way you could put it.”

“Sure.” Josh paused, thinking through something. Jane could see the confusion growing on his face. “Why does your dad get into so much trouble? I mean, he was in the hospital with some sort of injury, then he was in Pakistan, now he’s sneaking in  windows? What's up with that?”

Jane laughed.

“Well, it’s not all the same guy, I’ve got two dads. Just split the shenanigans evenly between them.”

“Oh.”

Jane watched him, watched the wheels turn behind his eyes. 

“Is that okay, Josh?”

He nodded slowly.

“Yeah, just confused ‘s all.”

“That’s alright. It’s confusing. It’s all men in my house, it gets wild.”

“I’d imagine.”

Josh tossed out his empty cup and let Jane finish hers before they headed outside. They made small talk for a while, strolling the streets aimlessly, jaywalking and getting honked at by impatient cabbies. They didn’t really care, they were happy. It was nice, for  November, and a chilly breeze blew the rubbery air from the streets.

Jane got fed up with their hands awkwardly brushing each other every five seconds so she took Josh’s and held it tight.  _ It’s cold _ , she said.  Sure, he was cute. She didn’t  _ love _ him, not at all, he was just another boy. It couldn’t hurt, he couldn’t hurt her, right?  _ Right? _ __ She almost cursed when they caught each other’s eye again.  _ I just want to look at you and feel nothing. I’m not ready for this again.  _

“You alright?” Jane looked  up at him, startled.

“Yeah, yeah, I should probably get home...”

“Sorry, I can walk you there or-”

“It’s fine, thanks, I’ll-I’ll just ride the train.”

“Okay, well, see you-”

“Bye.”

She turned abruptly and hurried down the subway stairs.  Everything felt like it was closing in around her, like with her next step she would fall through the tiled floor, like nothing was real at all. She stepped onto the train, her lungs and mind racing. _ I  _ _ don’twant _ __ _ tofeel _ _ anymore.  _ She sat down in a thankfully empty chair and let the train jolt to a start around her. 

When she looked up, Sky was sitting across from her, smiling a little. It wasn’t malicious, or jealous, but  it broke Jane’s heart just a little more.  She slumped over in her seat, shaking and tried to keep from crying. She held her breath and when she looked up again, Sky was gone.  _ I don’t  _ _ wanttohurt _ __ _ thisbad _ __ _ everytimeIseeyou _ _. _

She composed herself by the time she had to take the elevator to her floor, her home.  She smiled when the door slid open and she could smell some sort of pasta cooking. Her dad called a sort of greeting she couldn’t quite catch cause Connor was already bombarding her with questions about her ‘date’. 

“It wasn’t a date.” She insisted. She came to sit at the counter and Steve slid her a plate of spaghetti. 

“Sounded like a date.” Bucky remarked.

“Leave it alone, Baba.”

He shrugged a little and laughed, sitting down next to her. He looked a little disheveled, but not much more than usual.

“Why were you sneaking in?” she asked slyly, to get him back for the comment about her ‘date’.

“I-I just...” he laughed and shook his head. Steve gave him a stern look, but he ignored it. “Lost my keys?”

“ So, you climbed a skyscraper.”

“That’s not  how you do it, and you know that.”

“Whatever.”

“How  _ do _ you do it?” Connor asked.

Both  of them just laughed and shrugged.


	30. Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 30 
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “Sitting in a telescope, silently with his fingers intertwined. He puts his hand to the glass, what’s it like outside?”

“Where’s the gym?”

“I thought it was in the auditorium.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“I can’t remember.”

“You want to ask?”

“I’m not asking for directions, Steve.”

“I don’t see why-”

“Here it is.”

The chattering from the inside echoed off of the brick walls, through the steel doors, reverberating into the narrow hallway they were standing in.

“I hate schools.” Bucky murmured.

“I know.” Steve gave him a  smile and pulled the massive door open. The gym’s blue bleachers were fi lled with anxious, loud high school students, the band was setting up chairs in the center of the floor. Steve made eye contact with Jane from across the room, a dark silhouette who waved at him emphatically.

“This place is massive.”

They found a spot with the rest of the parents in the chairs set up on the floor across from the band seats. The assembly was a feature of the music and arts programs,  the assembly that Jane insisted they attend.

The orchestra did a number that Bucky recognized faintly, and two more upbeat pieces he didn’t know. The band was foreign but entertaining, with a sense of comedy that the orchestra lacked. 

“I thought she was in the band...” Steve murmured from somewhere far away.

“I don’t  know.” Bucky could hear himself talk from inside his head,  _ everything was so  _ _ loud. _

He liked to sit and watch the royal guard drill in the evenings, spears thumping the earth rhythmically, the sun would set about halfway through. Okoye would make sure they got enough training in the dark as well as in the light. She would chase off any other onlookers, not wanting a distraction for her soldiers, but Bucky, she would just look at him up on the hill and let him watch. 

Their drums were beautiful, painted with intricate traditional patterns that he had grown so fond of. The ones he had tattooed on his arm. The music they made was always rousing, it kept you on your toes, changing rhythms just when you thought you knew what to e xpect.

Just when you thought you knew what to expect.

Bucky looked up, roused by the beats that weren’t just in his head anymore,  _ he knew that song. _ There were seven drums set up in the center of the gym  _ how had he missed that _ with three people in the middle. One, he knew, he knew that mass of black hair and the furious yet precise way that girl moved and  _ yeah, she was good. _ She led the two other boys in an aggressive war chant that echoed through the hall, hanging over the deep rhythmic drums.  The audience had grown silent and remained that way as Jane hammered out the last few beats. The three kids stood there, frozen for a moment, until the applause began.


	31. Thirty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 31
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “In his head, it’s only letters, make it make sense and make it better.”

“YES!” The applause was more than she had expected, and she whipped around to Josh and Alex, giving the two a group hug, all laughing, high on their success.

“You guys nailed it!”

“That was sick!”

All the students were moving, flooding out the doors, not even demands by the principal for them to remain in order while they exited stopped the bottleneck by the doors.  Josh grabbed her arm. 

“My mom’s here, I want you to meet her.”

Jane grinned and let Josh pull her through the crowd until they reached a nice looking Latina lady. She looked older, but was still beautiful, with her dark hair pulled back in a thick loose braid. 

“Mama, this is Jane.”

Jane shook the woman’s hand.

“It’s so nice to meet you, chica, Josh has told me so much about you.”

“All good things I hope?”

“Of course!”

They chatted for a moment, until she told them she had to leave. Josh gave Jane an expectant look.

“So?”

“She’s lovely, Josh.”

“Yeah I think so too.” Jane laughed at that . “ So, when do I get to meet your parents? Are they here?”

“Uh...” Jane checked her phone. She had messages from both of her dads.

** Baba **

Thanks for that, your little squads amazing  😊

** Dad **

Great job! We’ve got to head out, hopefully we can get back for dinner if Fury doesn’t keep us too long. 

“No... they left.”

“They’re avoiding me?” Josh said, attempting a joke.

“No, they’re just...” Jane sighed, “...busy I guess.”

“Oh, what do they do for work then?”

“Uh...” Jane stared off for a moment, trying to come up with an answer that wasn’t ‘Avenger’ or ‘Technically assassins I guess’.  “They’re...security...officers. Yeah.”

“You sound really sure about that.”

“Shut up.” 

Alex walked up to them and pulled on Josh’s sleeve.

“Hey, stop flirting, we’ve got to put those drums away.” Josh ignored him.

“Will I get to meet them though?”

“Uh...I mean I think that’s fine-” Jane’s heart rate spiked. She coul dn’t take him to  _ Stark tower, _ come on, and if she tried to explain who her parents really were, there’s _ no way _ he would believe her, right? And if she didn’t t ell him, she’d surely scare him off if he ever found out. Her dad was  _ Captain America _ , if that didn’t scare off any boy, she didn’t know what would.

“Guys!!” Alex shouted at them , gesturing wildly to the drums left out in the middle of the floor. 

“Can’t wait-” Josh winked at her and jogged off to help Alex out. Jane paused, trying to ignore the twisted feeling in her stomach, the fear of him knowing who she was combined with him touching her shoulder and gi ving her that wink,  _ his eyes were so pretty _ . She felt sick.

She didn’t love him, no she didn’t. She didn’t even like him, right? Now he’s meeting her  parents? **_ Her parents. _ ** _ Oh lord help me... _


	32. Thirty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 32
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “I look at you, and I’ve turned around, and you’ve already grown.”

Jane flopped over backwards on the couch, making upside-down eye contact with Steve. 

“Hey dad?”

“What’s up?”

“Can I have someone over?”

“Over here?” He set his book down and sat up to look at her, his face a little concerned. 

“Yeah...”

“Uh.” He zoned out a little, Jane watched the gears turn behind his eyes. He was always so easy to read. “I mean, sure.”

“Thanks!” Jane stood and was about to walk off.

“Wait, who is it?”

“Uh, his name’s Josh-”

“A boy? You didn’t say-”

“Dad, that shouldn’t make a difference...”

They stared at each other, trying to telepathically prove their point until Steve gave in.

“You’re right, I mean...Well. I should get to meet him when he gets here though.”

“That’s kind of the point...”

“What do you mean-” Jane tried to walk off again. “ _ Are you bringing a boy home?? _ _ A boy Jane?? For us to meet? Like your boyfriend? Wha-” _

_ “ _ He’s not my  _ boyfriend _ dad, we’re just friends. We need to work on a project.”

“A project?” Bucky’s voice startled Jane, causing her to whip around. 

“Baba! Not y-”

“That kid who took you on a date?” Bucky asked  nonchalantly , wandering to the fridge. 

“She went on a  _ date _ ?” Steve asked, standing and making his way towards them.

“It was just cocoa-”

“-and you didn’t  _ tell me _ ?”

Both Bucky and Jane froze, eyes wide. They glanced at  each other for a second, then back to Steve.

“I thought I mentioned it to you...?” Bucky tried, backing away a little and going to scavenge the pantry. Steve stared at him, bewildered.

“ _ Baba!  _ I thought I asked you to  tel -”

“I forgot-”

“And  _ you _ weren’t going to mention it either, Jane?” Steve asked. 

“I asked  _ him _ to!”

Steve glared at  Bucky, but the other man just shrugged and looked away. Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Can he come over or not?”

“I’m okay with it-”

“You don’t get an opinion right now, Buck.”

“I’m glad I’m valued.” Bucky mused sarcastically. 

“Dad?”

Steve sighed deeply.

“Yeah I guess it’s alright.’’

“Thanks!!” Jane grinned and ran off, obviously satisfied. 

Steve groaned and slumped over, pressing his forehead to one of the  kitchen cabinets . 

“Why’s she so old?”

Bucky shrugged and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve got to let them grow up Steve, things won’t stay the same forever.”

Steve sighed and  turned to rest his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder.

“But I don’t want them to change.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to the side of his face.

“But they will.”


	33. Thirty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 33 
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “Rant to me, I like the sound, I like your voice, I like your mouth.”

The subway rattled beneath their feet, the occasional lights casting glares on the windows. Jane bit her lip nervously, praying that the subway would break down or something and they’d have to cancel plans. 

“You alright?” Josh asked. 

“Fine, yeah fine.”

He looked at her, eyes scrutinizing her every move, trying to figure out what to say. 

“Well, uh, you hear about that raid in  Quatar ?” He asked, attempting small talk.

“The  wha \- oh uh yeah.” Jane knew all about that. Her dad had come home with the life beaten out of him, her Baba at his side, giving h i m hell for some stupid decision he had made. Honestly, it blurred together with all the other missions, but she remembered her dad stressing about it, saying something about how it was one of the most dangerous things they’ve done.

“It’s crazy, huh?  Nothing but respect for those men and women. I’d be such a wuss.” He laughed a little, but Jane didn’t. 

“You...uh-you follow the Avengers much?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, you know that stuff interests me. All the politics and whatnot.  Y’know , when I was maybe  fourteen, I wrote a whole paper for my class on the Winter Soldier trial. Crazy stuff.”

“You...what?” 

“Yeah I know, I’m a nerd but-”

“No no, it’s okay I just-” The subway came to a stop. “This is it.”

She led him through the noisy station, and up onto the street level. The tower was maybe a eight minute walk from the station, and it was  cold, so they power walked through the  streets.  Jane’s heart raced; she hadn’t rehearsed this part in her head like everything else. She didn’t know what to say when she stopped in front  of Stark tower and said, ‘Yeah this is where I live’. And Josh wasn’t helping. 

“Hey, you live right by Stark Tower!” Josh exclaimed when she slowed down in front of the massive structure. “That’s so cool! Can you hear the planes and stuff take off?”

“Um, yep, yeah I can.”

She pulled the front door open, holding it for Josh, but he just looked at her, his brow furrowed, trying to figure out what she was doing. She gestured for him to get inside, and he opened his mouth but didn’t  say a word, just hustled in through the door. 

Jane never really got used to this lobby, like nearly everything Tony did, it was extravagant and modern. Josh looked around, gawking at the tech and crisp architecture. Jane grabbed his arm, threw a smile at the secretary and headed back to the secret elevator.  The elevator wasn’t really secret, but she had called it that since she was little cause it was tucked behind a wall. 

“What are we-” Jane grabbed Josh’s arm  fiercely and he promptly shut up.

“Josh, don’t talk just let me explain a few things before we get up there.” He nodded quickly. “Good, now, I live here. This is m y place. You are not to tell anyone about it. About where I live or who my family is, do you understand? I’m trusting you here.”

Josh’s eyes were wide, and he nodded again. Jane couldn’t tell if he was scared or just more confused than a human had ever been.  The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open, Jane noticed that the odd shutter was gone, Tony had probably fixed that this time. She grabbed Josh’s hand and let him through the entryway, through the short hall and into the kitchen area. She ignored Josh’s looks of confusion, instead pulling him right up to her father, who turned in his stool at the kitchen counter to see what the angry brown blur coming from the elevator was. 

“So?” Jane asked, pushing Josh right up to him, holding the boy by his shoulders. “What do you think?”

Steve looked Josh up and down, then turned his gaze to Jane. 

“I don’t know, I think you scared him.”

Jane turned him around to face her. Yeah, well, maybe she hadn’t thought that one through. Josh’s eyes were wide, his lips parted, with the teeth below clenched out of panic. He gripped her forearms in return, trying feebly to come up with a question that wouldn’t make him sound absolutely stupid. Maybe he was absolutely stupid,  _ he couldn’t tell at this point b _ _ ut- _

“Woah kid put the boy down-” Tony’s voice caused Jane to let go of Josh, and whip around. He feigned caution, putting his hands up and inching towards her. He took Josh’s forearm and lead him a few steps away from Jane, who shot him an unimpressed look. 

“He looks like a nice kid, don’t break him on his first day, huh?” Tony laughed a little, more amused at his own joke than anyone else seemed to be. “This is Josh then?”

“Yeah.”

“They know about me??-” Josh half whispered to Jane, stepping closer to her as if she was capable of protecting him.  _ This was Tony-freaking-Stark offering him a handshake and honestly, he wasn’t mentally prepared for this _ . He reached out, suddenly hyper aware of how sweaty his hands were  but took the handshake anyway. It seemed to go alright cause Tony smiled a little and patted him on the shoulder and Josh could feel his heart slow down a little. 

“Yeah, don’t worry though, all good things.” Jane winked a little at him, and _ that for sure wasn’t helping his heart rate but he wasn’t going to stare, or anything cause the man right behind him was her dad and _ , he glanced behind him to check, _ yeah that was Steve Rogers.  _

“Well, now you know Tony,” she gestured over to the man who was now rustling through the pantry, looking for a snack, “This is my dad,” she pushed him a little to face Steve Rogers, STEVE ROGERS, come on. This was the dude Josh _ idolized  _ as a kid, the dude he  _ always wanted to meet, _ he followed his press meetings, he kept up on the politics, he’s read  _ all _ the books. But  _ nothing’ _ s really like staring this man right in the face cause he’s wearing a sweater and’s got watercolors all over the counter and on his hands and yeah, he just looks like  _ some guy _ . 

“Hey.” Josh took the handshake a little more confidently this time, smiling a little, managing to maintain eye contact like a man. Like a man, Josh, you got this. 

“Don’t let him scare you,” Jane assured him from behind, “he’s pretty tall and could probably beat you up but he cries every time we watch Charlotte’s Web.”

“Not  _ ever _ y time-”

“Almost every time.”

“You’ve got so much blackmail info on me, Jane, I don’t know why you keep looking for excuses to bring it up, don’t you know anything about espionage?”

“Everything she knows came from you, punk. That’s why she’s the worst.” 

“And that’s my... _ other _ dad.”

Bucky gave a lazy little salute and opened up the fridge.

“Baba, you’re not even going to say hi?”

“Why would I, you’re around all the time.”

“Well, a) that’s terrible parenting, b) Josh is here.”

“Oh-” He turned, making an attempt to discreetly shove something in the pocket of his hoodie. Josh knew that face all too well. Often the point of blame, a scapegoat for the press, someone Josh had researched repeatedly, trying to formulate his own opinion on this personification of controversy amidst all the bias and journalists looking for something to say. 

“Buck, are you trying to steal thin mints again?”

“What? No.”

His pockets crinkled.

Debatably the most skilled criminal on the planet, and he couldn’t even sneak a few cookies. What else had Josh missed?

“Hey-” His voice came out high pitched and timid and everyone turned to look at him. “Can I say something?”


	34. Thirty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 34 
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “Maybe I'm amazed at the the way you pulled me out of time  
> And hung me on a line”

“What exactly is happening?”

Jane laughed, she could see the gears turning behind his eyes, the confusion on his face wasn’t really unpleasant, but she was ready to clarify. After all, he didn’t seem to be running away just yet. 

“These are my dads, Josh. Remember, all the  stories? That’s these maniacs.” She gestured to them with her thumb. Steve looked down and shook his head, laughing a little.

“I don’t want to know what she’s told you about us.”

“Yeah me  neither .”

“Mostly good things, I think...?” Josh stammered.

“ _ All _ good things,  _ Josh _ .”

“Buck, I thought you were going to put those back.”

He shoved another cookie into his mouth and put his hands in his pockets and made a move to leave.

“Hey-”

“Baba, those are Uncle Sam’s!”

“Jane, that’s why I’m taking them.  If they were Nat’s or Tony’s or  something, they  ain’t free game.”

“Why are mine free game then?” Sam had rounded the corner, coming chest to chest with Bucky, raising an eyebrow  disappointedly . Bucky just glared back. 

“I’m more worried about Nat kicking my ass than you.”

“Baba! Sam! No fighting in the kitchen. Either you come to an agreement or you can duke it out outside. We have people over!” She  aggressively gestured to Josh who tried to take a step back and pretend he wasn’t associated. 

“Dude, how much food do you horde?” Bucky sighed and handed the pack of cookies back.

“You have no idea.”

“We have a project to work on...” Jane took Josh’s hand and led him away, down the hall of bedrooms.  They were labelled with white paint on the dark blue doors, some with fancy calligraphy, others with doodles, one was adorned with some complex piece that Josh wanted to stop and look at, but Jane was pulling him along at breakneck speed. They reached a door, labelled as hers, and she led him inside. 

“Sorry about that. They’re a little, well...”

“It’s fine! Really.” He sat down on the edge of her bed, looking around the room. There were pictures taped to the walls of her and her parents, drawings, little notes and sentimental mementos. There were  receipts , pamphlets, even a few hospital bracelets among the papers on the walls.

“You like to collect...?”

“Oh, yeah. I like to remember things.” She pointed to a picture of her and a little boy with light brown skin and black hair. “That’s my little brother and I on the day we met.” The two kids were grinning stupidly at the camera, embracing each other. “We’re adopted, if you didn’t catch onto that yet...”

“Yeah I figured that one out” He laughed a little, and thankfully, so did she. 

“Yeah, our family...well.” She stared down at the carpet, but Josh knew what she was trying to say. It was crazy. He understood. Living with two little sisters was crazy enough. He couldn’t imagine living with all these people. Well, he could. It was something he had dreamed about. All these people, these soldiers, entrepreneurs, strategists, politicians, geniuses, these men and women who were going to go down in the history books, some who already had. This was where Jane had come from. Maybe that’s why she was just so .... amazing . 

“Hey, moron.” He had zoned out; Jane was waving her hand in front of his face. “We got homework to do for reals.”

“Sorry, yeah.” 

“You with me, Josh? Is this...is this okay?” Jane gestured a little to her door.

“Yeah, yeah it’s all good.”

“You know you can’t say a word, okay? My parents, well... you know what the press would say- they don’t-”

“Yeah, totally, I get it.” Josh nodded emphatically. “Lips sealed.” Jane smiled.

“Thanks.”


	35. Thirty Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 35 
> 
> Seventeen years old 
> 
> “I am still your baby boy, stuck in twenty thirteen.”

“ D’you think they’ll notice that we’re home late?”

“I don’t know, your mama probably will.”

“Fair.”

Connor shrugged, taking another bite of his doughnut. “But I think they’ll be less mad that we grabbed doughnuts as opposed to doing meth, so...”

“True, true.” Morgan laughed , s kipping over a crack in the sidewalk. 

Connor Rogers-Barnes and Morgan Stark had been close since the day they met. It was like the two kids were practically made for each other. Perfect friends, each sculpted to fill that the other lacked. They went to school, robotics competitions, science fairs, restaurants, libraries, everywhere together. And by some small miracle, they never got tired of each other. They were kids with sharp minds that forwent their years, always with something new to say, some opinion they had been brewing over the night before. 

“Jane’s supposed to be bringing her  _ boyfriend _ over tonight.”

“ _ Boyfriend _ huh? _ Jealous _ ?” Morgan asked, jokingly.

“What? Morgan, I’m _ fourteen _ , and not into boys. No.” Morgan shrugged.

“Just wondering. Is he cute?”

“Morgan! I said-”

“I know what you said, you can see people as attractive without being actually-”

“Dude I don’t need this speech again.”

“Alright.”

“And I don’t know what he looks like anyway. Name’s Josh. She talks about him a lot, but she still insists he’s not actually her __ _ boyfriend _ _ ,  _ but they’ve been on dates and stuff.”

“Going on one date doesn’t automatically make you boyfriend-girlfriend.”

“Fair.” 

Morgan held the door to Stark Tower open, making a grandiose display of chivalry, including mock-bow that Connor ignored. In the elevator, he finished off his doughnut, shoving the napkin he had been using in his pocket. 

“You better finish that, Morgan, unless you want your dad to get on  ya for not bringing him one.”

“On it.”

She too, stuffed the napkin in her pocket as the doors slid open. The two of them could overhear some light-hearted argument from the kitchen, something about black holes. 

“Hey Baba.” 

“Hey kid, where have you guys been?”

“Stopped for a snack on the way home. Where’s Jane?”

“In her room, I think. Why?” Bucky looked at him suspiciously, he never asked where Jane was, unless he needed something from her. 

“Just wondering.”

Connor gestured for Morgan to follow him, after she had finished talking to her dad, and answered the constant ‘Which drugs did you do this time?’ question. 

“What’d you say?” Connor asked. It was an ongoing joke between Tony and his daughter, and she tried to come up with the worst answer every time.

“Speedball. I think he was impressed that I knew what that was.”

“If Pepper ever overhears you two-”

“We don’t think about that.”

Connor laughed a little and slowed as they neared Jane’s door. He gave it a few quick knocks before opening it. Jane was on the ground, legs splayed out, reading some sheet music propped up against the leg of her desk, and pounding out the notes on the floor.  Josh was next to her, only half paying attention, tapping out a sort of complementary beat. 

“Whazzup?” Connor  plopped himself down on her bed. 

“ Aaand that’s my brother.” Jane explained, gesturing to him. 

“Connor, then.” Josh said, waving a little. “Hey, I’m Josh.”

“And that’s Morgan, Tony’s girl.” Jane continued, “They’re joined at the hip.”

“Whatever, what are you guys doing?” Connor asked. 

“Well...” Jane pointed to the discarded half-done  poster board on her desk, “Supposed to be doing that, but,” she then pointed to her drumsticks “We got distracted.”

Connor shrugged “Cool, just wanted to say hi.”

He left, and Morgan ignored a little mischievous smile that his lips hinted at. She knew he was up to something and she didn’t want to be a part of it. Well, she did, she always did, she just didn’t want to face the consequences of whatever he had planned. She slipped into the kitchen when they entered the commons.

“Hey Baba,”  Bucky looked up from the book he had picked up.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Bucky gave him an unconvinced look as he sat down on the couch next to his father. The two of them were always closer than Steve had been to Connor. It wasn’t out of maltreatment or  favor ; they had simply clicked. 

“Josh and Jane are banging.”

“They’re...what?” Bucky turned his head sharply, while Connor kept as straight a face as he could. 

“ Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“WHAT?” Steve had whipped around, unsure of what he had heard. He made eye contact with Bucky, forming a silent showdown of who would have to go approach the door.  Connor swallowed a snicker as he watched his  fathers whisper violently back and forth for a few minutes. He couldn’t understand what they were saying and frankly he’d like to keep it that way.  Eventually Steve let out a sigh and got up from his chair, Bucky set his book down and they both went down the hall towards Jane’s room.

When Connor stood up, Morgan glared at him from the kitchen. 

“What’d Jane ever do to you?”

Connor shrugged and grinned, then gestured for Morgan to follow him down the hall too. They stayed quiet, not wanting to draw the attention of the visibly anxious super soldiers nearing the  door. After a few more moments of bickering, they watched as Bucky turned the handle and opened the door hesitantly, only to be met with the sound of  drumsticks on a plastic pad. Connor and Morgan could see the confusion on his face as the percussion stopped slowly. 

Steve was the first one to make the connection and he groaned, throwing his head back half in frustration and half in mild amusement. 

“What’s going on?” Morgan whispered. 

“Banging, get it?” Connor asked with a stupid grin on his face , “Drums?”

Morgan paused for a moment, dumbstruck by his stupidity. 

“ **_ Connor-! _ ** ” 

His face paled as he heard his father’s frustrated voice behind  him and he pushed Morgan to get her running “Go  go ,  gogogo -!!!” 


	36. Thirty Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 36  
> Seventeen years old  
> “The negative thoughts go on the left, and the happy things on the right, and there’s a little corner saved just for you”
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Light mentions of PTSD

Steve let out a soft little sigh, one that made Bucky roll over to see if he was still awake. He was. He was staring up at the ceiling with a soft smile that Bucky wanted to kiss off his stupid face. Instead, he just smiled and asked:

“What’s got you goin’ all soft like that?”

Steve’s smile tugged a bit wider before he too rolled over to face Bucky.

“Just the shit the kids pull,” he mused, “they’re good kids.”

“They are,” Bucky agreed, “And if Connor’s stunt today is the most trouble they get into then maybe I can rest easy.”

Steve hummed in agreement; a low sound that made the bed vibrate a bit. Bucky reached out with his right arm and grabbed Steve’s hand, scooting a little closer in the process. He kept the metal arm close to his chest like he always did, hesitant to touch anyone, much less Steve, with it. Steve brought their hands close to his face and pressed a little kiss to the side of Bucky’s hand. He smiled a bit and closed his eyes, content. Bucky smiled too, happy to sit and stare at his husband’s face. He was pretty, always had been, though he had changed significantly over the years.

“Steve?” he asked quietly. Steve’s eyes fluttered back open and settled in a lazy half-lidded gaze.

“You think they’re alright?”

“What do you mean, Buck?”

“Just,” he sighed, “I worry. We try ‘n hide things from them all the time and I know they see more than they let on. I don’t want to hurt them-”

“Bucky,” Steve said, soft but stern, “They’re okay. Even if they had noticed anything, things are getting better right? We’re fixing it.” Bucky nodded a little, unconvinced, but his worries were at least eased a little. Steve was right, he usually was anyway, things were getting better. He was just scared. If things got better that just meant that they were going to get worse.

Steve noticed the tension on his face. Bucky was always easy to read, if he didn’t shut down completely. Luckily, he hadn’t done that in a long time, the last time Steve could recall was when he had raised his voice at him almost two years ago. Steve knew Bucky didn’t respond well to yelling, when he had first come back to him all those years ago, he would wince any time someone spoke above a whisper to him. However, Bucky had punched a hole in their wall, yelling at Steve for something he couldn’t remember doing. It was enough to make Steve’s own chest seize up in panic.

He had yelled, just once, told him to _shut the fuck up._ He had regretted it immensely the moment he saw Bucky’s face drop. He knew that look. Bucky went silent and suddenly wasn’t mad at all. Wasn’t hurt either. Steve knew whenever it was too much, a system overload of emotion, Bucky’s brain would tuck it all away. It was his way of making sure he didn’t snap like he used to. All those years ago if anyone would shout, even a little, he was on them in a heartbeat, metal hand around their throat.

He was glad that Bucky wouldn’t snap anymore, he had been declared stable and free of the Winter Soldier for years before they had even considered bringing children into their home. Bucky was horrified of hurting anyone, and hurting a child, well, he didn’t know if he could keep living. However, though he never hurt anyone, he would still shut down, close off, like flipping a switch and shutting his emotions down.

However, as long as that didn’t happen, Bucky could be read like a book. The cloudiness of his eyes and the slight tension in his brow told Steve that Bucky was far from convinced. So he moved a little closer, enough that he could press a small kiss to his husband’s forehead. Bucky gave up a little sigh and curled into Steve’s body.

“They’re gonna be okay, Buck.”

Bucky nodded a tiny bit and Steve felt him quiver a little, but he wasn’t sure if it was out of fear or because he was cold. He reached over and pulled the blanket over the two of them and smiled when Bucky relaxed a little more. He released a little from the ball he had curled into and Steve could feel his fluffy-sock-covered-toes poke his shin. Steve kissed his forehead again and Bucky looked up. He grabbed his chin and made him bend down to give him a proper kiss. Steve laughed a little, but Bucky was in no playing mood. He bit down on Steve’s lower lip in response and made Steve yelp a tiny bit.

“Shut up, you like that.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement.

Steve smiled and ignored the heat running up his face.

“Do I?”

“You gonna make me show you, Rogers?”

“Maybe-“


	37. Thirty Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 37  
> Seventeen years old  
> “But a part of me wants to let you be, so you cant see what I’ve become.”
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Description of mild panic attack/dissociation episode, past domestic violence

Jane had given it several weeks before inviting Josh back over to her place. However, he had spun the offer and invited her over to his home instead. She had accepted immediately but stressed over the encounter for several nights. Did he not like her home, her family? Had he gotten scared off? At least he still wanted her around, right? It was more likely that he was just being hospitable, he had mentioned earlier that he wanted her to meet his mother more officially than she had at the assembly. That was probably it.

She had initially tried to bring the offer to Bucky, knowing he’d be more likely to say yes without too many questions. But apparently Connor’s little stunt last time had led to worries of his own, and Jane got sat down with another sex talk. He was (surprisingly) nonchalant about it all, simply reminding her of all the safety rules and making sure she knew and understood the risks involved. He seemed genuinely nervous at a few points but at least he understood it was ultimately her choice.

Jane had dismissed most of his questions, reassuring him that Josh was _not_ her partner and she had _no_ intentions of even kissing him at this point. But then Bucky had told her he was going to talk to Steve about it before he gave her the green light. Luckily she had not been involved in the conversation and she was finally allowed to go over to Josh’s.

“Here.” She handed Josh his half of the cookie they had purchased. It was cold. Early January was miserable in New York and for some reason they were still speed walking the streets.

“We’re close, promise” he assured her. The bakery he had taken her to was supposed to be close to his apartment building and only taken a few extra minutes, but the line had been out the door. He insisted it was the best and he _had_ to try a cookie (which she was thankful for, it was one of the best things she had ever eaten) so they had waited in the line.

He was right, the building was close, just a few blocks down. The man at the desk gave the pair a stern look, but Josh simply threw him a smile anyway. They took the elevator to the 11th floor and Josh led her several feet down the hall to apartment 114. He pulled a key out of his pocket and invited her in.

It was a small but inviting space. A classic tiny NYC apartment, two rooms that both doubled as bedrooms, a tiny kitchen, and a bathroom. The hum of a space heater created a comforting drone and kept the place warm.

A woman who Jane quickly recognized as Josh’s mother poked her head out of the kitchen. She gave the pair a large grin and ushered them into a hug. She was warm and smelled like cinnamon and Jane felt very welcome in her arms. She stood on her tip toes and kissed both of them on the top of their head (Josh had to lean down). He offered them a snack but Josh told her they were okay, and Jane followed him into the second room. There was a bed with a desk in the corner. Most of the room was either taken up the bed or the desk.

“Mi casa es su casa,” Josh said softly, imitating an English accent on the Spanish words. He sat down on the floor, letting her take the desk chair.

“Yeah?” she asked, raising an eyebrow lightly.

“Whatever you want.” There was a sincerity to his voice that caught Jane off guard. He had said that to her often, as she was stubborn, and she knew it. However, there was a small lilt that told her he meant it. But then again maybe she was making things up.

“I know it’s- uh- different than your place but—”

“Josh,” she scolded, “It’s lovely. Honest.”

He smiled and nodded.

“Ah-uh—anyway, there’s- “

“Work, right.” She pulled open her backpack and he did the same. It was a little awkward initially, Josh seemed more reserved than he normally was, but it quickly settled into a comfortable quiet. They made small talk, and eventually got back on the subject of their families. Josh seemed more willing to share information now, as did Jane.

Jane couldn’t help but try and study his face a little more. He always kept the right side of his face away from her, similar to the way her father leaned to keep his metal appendage away from others. As she looked closer at it, she noted it to be a sort of burn scar. The skin there was textured and lighter in saturation than the rest of his face. She also noticed that it trailed a bit down his neck.

“Jane?”

Oh. He had noticed her staring. Josh was visibly uncomfortable, and she felt a pang of guilt for making him feel self-conscious.

“Sorry-! I was just-“

“I get it,” he smiled a bit grimly, “I understand. Suppose you’re wondering how I got it.”

Jane nodded timidly.

“Father.” He said, tempted to leave the explanation at that. The full story was more complicated but in short: “Father, well.” He laughed a little, “Not exactly an optimal parental figure, I guess. He got mad easy. I was eight. Hot water.”

“I’m so sorry-“

“It’s alright, promise. It was ten years ago and I haven’t seen him in two years. I’m over it.”

“You sure?” Jane asked. She knew no one was really ‘over it’, she had heard the lie from Sky too many times. Sky. She had a similar scar on her hand. Jane should have guessed, honestly. If she had seen it sooner maybe she coulda stopped it. Stopped this, coulda stopped it all. And maybe things would be okay and they would be happy and maybe her dad woulda stayed around when she needed him most and maybe she didn’t have to be so alone all the time and maybe she’d be able to ride the subways without zoning out till she forgot what day it was and where she was going-

“Jane-“

Right. She was in this room, at this desk. In this chair, with Josh’s hand on her knee. Her lip quivered a little, giving her away.

“Hey hey- I’m so sorry, Jane it’s alright, promise.”

“No no, ‘s not you-“

Everything felt fuzzy, her body shook and convulsed, just once, and then sat still. She blinked the one tear out of her eye and took a deep breath to shove everything back down again. Jane didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to face it all, not now, not here.

“Hey, it’s alright Jane. Promise. Promise.”

“I know,” she sniffed, “I know, Josh. ‘m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He quieted a little when she placed her hand on top of his own. Just a small point of intimacy, an anchor, letting them both know they were still there.


	38. Thirty Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 38  
> Eighteen years old  
> “I’ve got this place that I fill with empty space while I’m tryin not to face what I’ve done”
> 
> Chapter Warnings: mentions of past violence, PTSD

Bucky had his head down, teeth gritted.

It was only 10am and the day had already been one of the worst in the last 20 years. There were few days that Bucky Barnes considered ‘the worst’. One was the day in his trial where the prosecution simply went through video evidence of his crimes. Videos that he had to sit through. He had closed his eyes but some had audio that he couldn’t escape. Sounds that rattled his skull and sunk low in his spine.

He had been allowed to wait outside after the judge noticed his distress. He was grateful for that, there were specific things he had done that he would never be able to face. He wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t good enough. And he knew it.

However, this morning he had received word that a group was working to have his case reopened. Declaring that they wouldn’t rest until justice was reached and Bucky Barnes was executed.

“Buck, don’t worry. We made them put it all in one trial for a reason. They can’t try you again.” Steve’s voice was both comforting and infuriating.

Bucky shook his head a little, a helpless motion. Steve took his hand and tried to kiss his cheek, but Bucky turned his head and the kiss landed in his hair.

“Steve, don’t do this-“His voice was quiet, shaky, scared.

“Sweetheart, they can’t do anything.”

“What if they can, Steve?” he murmured, defeated, “What if there’s something we forgot? Any one thing I’ve done is worthy of the death penalty. If they can just find one thing.”

“They won’t kill you Buck.”

“Steve, just listen. One thing, Steve. One thing and they can at least shut me away for life. Life, Steve. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t leave the kids, couldn’t leave you and just sit in a cell the rest of my life. I’d rather die, Stevie.”

The last sentence was small and almost whispered.

“I’m so tired of being alone, Stevie.”

Steve bowed his head and stared at the carpet in their bedroom for a few moments. 

“If they get you convicted, I’ll break you out and we can run away. It won’t be easy but I promise I’ll do it. I don’t wanna live without you, Buck. Promise you that, alright?”

Bucky nodded his head hesitantly and then looked up. Steve looked almost as distressed as he was. Eyes red and crinkled with worry, his bottom lip a bit swollen from where he had been biting it. Bucky leaned into him, letting himself collapse a little into the other man’s lap. Steve hoisted him up a little, grunting, and pulled him so Bucky was straddling his lap and laid his head on his shoulder. Bucky started making little whimpering noises that shot right through Steve’s ribs and into his heart. Sure, Bucky could be frustrating. There were times where he had to leave the room to resist the urge to punch him in the face. But in the end, Steve would do anything for the man curled up, crying in his lap.

“Bucky,” Steve murmured “I won’t let that happen. Won’t ever happen ok? I’ve got you.”

Bucky nodded again and wrapped his arms tighter around Steve’s neck.


	39. Thirty Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 39  
> Eighteen years old  
> “His mind is in a different place, will everyone please give him a little bit of space.”
> 
> Chapter Warnings: light angst

Sam was tired. So tired. Tired enough that when Steve entered the kitchen carrying a weepy Bucky he turned and tried to leave. Didn’t matter that those were his best friends, he wanted to take a nap and he could ask Steve if everything was okay later.

At least that’s what he tried to tell himself.

He stopped mid step, halted by the little memory in his brain that always brought him back to help others. It wasn’t a pleasant memory. Not one that he wished to recount, but it kept him kind, and he supposed he was grateful for that.

He turned back to face the pair. Steve was looking through the pantry while Bucky quivered a bit in his arms. Bucky looked up and made eye contact with Sam through his hair and Sam gave him a small smile. Bucky smiled back shyly, obviously embarrassed by his state as he immediately went back to avoiding eye contact. Sam took a few steps closer, giving Steve a little “behind you,” so he wouldn’t get scared and places a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Hey Sam.”

“You need a hand, big guy?” Sam asked. Bucky nodded and Steve let him down from his arms so he could collapse into a hug from Sam. Sam was only an inch shorter than Bucky, but he hadn’t noticed for almost a year after knowing him. He was always slumped over, but now, in this hug, Sam felt at least a foot taller than the other man. He put a hand on Bucky’s back and coaxed him to stand at his full height, hoping the motion might make him feel tougher.

“They’re pressing for another trial” Steve explained.

“Another? They can’t, we put everything we could find in the first one.”

“That’s what I said. Bucky doesn’t seem as sure.”

Sam turned his gaze back to Bucky, who swallowed another sob. Steve rubbed his back a little and lowered his voice.

“Buck, it was just a few articles, it’s possible they’ve got nothing at all, darling.”

“Steve’s right.” Sam agreed, “It’s the same shit they’ve been spewing since you were acquitted.”

“Yeah but-“ Bucky hiccupped a little, “Now I’ve got shit to lose.”

“I know Barnes,” Sam moved his hand to cup his friend’s elbow, “Anything happens to you, anything at all, you know we’re taking care of things here at home.”

“I already promised I’d break him out-“ Steve confessed quietly.

“Well in that case, then you’ve got the Falcon on your side too. That is, on the off chance anything terrible actually does happen.”

“But Connor-“ Bucky broke down in another small sobbing fit. Sam led him to sit down in one of the dining room chairs and Steve knelt down by his feet. “He doesn’t…doesn’t-doesn’t talk to you, Stevie, not like, like, he does to me. What-t if he’s not okay- when I go...”

“Bucky-“ Sam scolded lightly, placing his hand down on his shoulder. “Nothing’s going to happen. He’s okay. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Not goin’ anywhere.” Steve confirmed.

After a few sniffles and hiccups, Bucky finally nodded. Sam stepped closer and Steve took his hand, still assuring him nothing would happen to any of them. Sam sighed a little, he had always been amazed by Steve’s patience with the man, he knew he could never do it himself. Bucky took a deep shaky breath and let it out slowly in an effort to calm himself down.

“Just your head,” Steve assured him, “Nothing’s wrong.”

He nodded again, taking another breath. “You’re right.” But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t, that something was terribly wrong. And that it was all his fault.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for giving this baby a shot. Hope you enjoy my little tale.  
> Also, each chapter contains Jane's age at the time, a song lyric or quote that I thought worked with the chapter and trigger warnings for that chapter. If you can name the song you win my affection.


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